Pride, Prejudice, and Pentex
by avrjoe
Summary: Bree Madigan wants to find her father's killer and see he's brought to justice. However, when she finds out that Sean Madigan's murderer is a high ranking member of the Pentex Corporation, complications arise. With Pentex and the Technocracy struggling in the shadows over relics of a lost age, she's in for a wild ride.
1. Chapter 1

Technocratic Black Ops Safe House

Undisclosed Location in Alabama

October 30th, 2012

* * *

Mike's head spun as he slowly regained consciousness. He was sitting in a chair in the dark. No, he realized that was wrong. There was something over his head. He was trying to quickly recall his last memories when suddenly the bag covering his face was ripped away and he was nearly blinded by a light that now shone in his eyes. He closed his eyes to ward away the stabbing light and squinted to allow his vision time to adjust. A few moments later he was given time a look around at the thugs guarding him. Six fairly standard Technocrat MIBs. He heard what sounded like struggling movement behind him.

An impeccably dressed man stepped into his line of sight. He was wearing an expensive suit. At six foot, he was taller than Mike when standing. Sitting down, Mike had to crane his neck up to look at the man. He looked somewhere between 60 and 80 with short, parted gray hair. He wore a smile that was akin to a predator who had cornered prey.

"Mr. D'Angelo. You come highly recommended as a mercenary. I have a job that requires deniable assets. Refusal to do as I demand will result in your death as well as that of your friend," the man said as he made a gesture behind Mike.

Mike looked behind him at the gun toting thugs then gave the old man a withering stare. "You think your kids can keep their hands off their dicks long enough for me to get up and take a look?"

"Why certainly, Mr. D'Angelo," the old man said, maintaining his Cheshire Cat smile.

Mike stood up and turned around to see Axe spread-eagle on the floor. He was held down by some serious metal restraints. Six men stood around him. Four with guns, one with a silver axe and the last with a doctor's bag and portable tray table stacked with a pile of absorbent hospital towels and sponges. Mike turned, looking about the rest of the room that resembled a old man's den more than a interrogation room.

"I don't mean to tell you your business, but whoever did your research on this job was shit. Is that scotch?" Mike asked while he headed for the bottles on the shelf.

"It is. What do you mean? What sort of bad intelligence do we have?" The old man's smile faded a bit at the corners of his mouth.

The guards started to raise their weapons but the old man waved them off. Mike poured a very generous amount of liquor into a tumbler and took a large gulp as he turned around.

"A man of your age, even assuming you're not older than you look, should know blackmail has to end one of two ways; either I become your bitch forever or I have to remove your ability to ever threaten me again. That's why I have a very firm rule; I only work when I get paid. I don't work to prevent a negative from happening. You see, that just rewards and encourages bad behavior. If you start acting like a little bitch who can be threatened into a job then you end up dying like a little bitch who can't cut it. I'll give you the benefit of assuming some subordinate screwed the pooch on this and we can start over. What's the job and what does it pay?" He asked.

"Oh? You'd work with us knowing who we are? Without threat?" The old man asked, intrigued.

"Everyone's done something. I try not to get hung up on that shit. If what you want is outside my moral compass, and not much is, then you'd need a true blue monster. Which I know a few and will recommend some who might work whatever perverse jobs you need done."

"The Pentex Corporation has found something of interest. The details are scant but it's large and powerful. Too large to easily move. We need to manufacture an attack that will justify our sending in a military response so we can then secure this relic. We don't want the attack traced back to us, as having to destroy Pentex would be a pointless drain on our resources. So, we send you, a known mercenary, who could be working for any number of Pentex's traditional enemies," the old man explained.

"Difficult and dangerous, but I don't care for Pentex, so fuck'em. They've been dicking everyone in their path for long enough, so it's not like they don't deserve it," Mike said with a shrug.

"You'll do it then?" The old man asked, still a bit taken aback at how this was going.

"No... not until I know what I'm being paid. You see we're beyond the realm of money, although money is a nice seasoning to spice up whatever plate you're planning to set before us," Mike said with a smile that reached his avarice filled eyes.

The older man let out a laugh and pulled out what looked like a folding ruler and bent it into a rectangular form. It hung in mid air in blatant defiance of gravity. He then reached inside and pulled out a clipboard which he then studied. "Space folding technology," he explained. "It's very handy for easily accessed storage. We have numerous items we have little use for that were taken from various beings we've terminated or battles we've cleaned up."

"You keep them for study?"

"Yes, you must know your foes and their craft as well. It might come in handy as inspiration if nothing else. Those who are wasteful will find themselves wanting."

"Huh, I didn't expect that," Mike admitted.

"As for trinkets, yes, I did have this which I was going to use as the carrot to go with my proverbial stick," the old man said, reaching his hand back into the hole in space.

Mike was shocked at what he pulled out. A pale, almost white, wooden staff. Atop the staff was a gilded Icon of the Archangel Michael locked in battle with the draconic form of Satan. Mike swallowed. He had not seen that staff in a long time.

"How the hell did you get the Staff of the D'Angelos? It was lost when my father was killed. Jesus-fucking-Christ! I haven't laid eyes on that thing since before I had pubes," Mike said in mild shock.

"Your father, as you know, died fighting a particularly wicked vampire. One that you later managed to kill. You never recovered his staff because the vampire in question had previously traded it to a demon worshiper whom you assumed destroyed it. However, he did not. Instead, this demon worshipper used it in a trap for some Celestial Choristers who did indeed die, but did not oblige them by dying quietly or easily. So great was the battle between the two sides that we took note and swept in to clean up, finishing off the vampires and acquiring this little oddity which we locked away among our confiscated relics," the old man explained.

"Well ain't that something. Yeah, the return of a family heirloom is pretty impressive. Not enough, but you're in the right ballpark," Mike admitted.

The old man nodded. "Let's see, what else could we offer. How about the Ring of Solomon?"

"It's fake."

The old man narrowed his eyes. "I assure you it's quite-"

"The real one is on the hand of the current Conductor of the Celestial Chorus. It's a really good fake. Also not as useful as one would think. The invisibility doesn't work on infrared or motion detectors."

"It lets you speak any human tongue as well as talk to animals," the old man pointed out.

"I got an app on my phone for languages and have you ever talked to animals? They are annoying little shits; yammering on about inane things no one cares about. Seriously, you'll be reminded why the teaming masses of idiots out there are still the dominant species on the planet. Animals are dumb as dirt."

"I'll take your word for it," the old man said dismissively.

"You don't happen to have the Orb of Dreams in there do you?"

"Even if we did you won't be getting it. How about the Robes of Carlos Moya? They were adjusted by their last holder to be less conspicuous in this day and age," the old man said as he procured a garment for Mike's inspection.

"A hoodie? Really?" Mike gaffed. He leaned in to inspect them further "Hum, they do seem to be legit though."

"Oh they are. How about that, the staff and say a cool million?"

"I assume you're keeping the staff 'til the mission is done? Let's say a lukewarm two million and the robes up front," Mike said.

"Done. This has been remarkably professional and straight forward. You know, when this is all over, you might want to give thought to flipping sides," the old man said.

"Are you kidding me? As much as I chafe at authority? I barely stay on speaking terms with an organization of iconoclasts," Mike said with a derisive snort.

"They tolerate you to a limited degree due to your successes. You'd find I also have an increased latitude for those who can produce results."

"Sorry, rather attached to the furball. Pretty sure he'd be a deal breaker," Mike said.

"True. Shame, really. While I cannot say it's been a pleasure, it has been remarkably unpainful to do business with you."

Mike looked around and scowled. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming next. "Do we have to do the bag thing again?"

"Sorry, it's policy. But, keep the bottle of scotch as compensation for the indignity. Next time we'll arrange a more civil meeting."

Mike shrugged and picked up the bottle and put on the hoodie. He then returned to sit down.

Claus Rayner nodded to the men to rehood the captives. "Give them a card for the cash and take them home. As this has gone inordinately well, I have extra time. I'm going to check on a few other projects," he instructed while he collected his space fold.

All and all, it was looking like it would be a very productive day.

* * *

Manifested Services Incorporated Compound

North of Fresno, California

November 12th, 2012

* * *

Bree Madigan walked beside Maximillian Strauss. This was to be the night Strauss made good his promise to help her learn more about her father's death. He had arranged today's meeting as a point where she could get the information she needed on her father's killers.

The two visitors were shown to a meeting room. It pleasant enough with wall to wall carpeting. It was furnished with wheeled, but comfortable looking, office chairs around a large oval table. It was lucky for Strauss that it was night, as to the right, there was a large bay window with only vertical blinds to keep the sun out. On the table itself there were a few files at the apex of the oval in front of a chair. Behind that chair, at the other end of the rectangular space, there was a wall mounted flat screen and a closed door.

"Dr. Alani will be with you shortly. She's running a little behind," the attendant said. "Is there anything that I can get you while you wait?"

"No, thank you," Strauss, said silkily. Bree simply shook her head. The attendant nodded and exited the room. Strauss and Bree took seats to the right of the unoccupied chair.

The pair waited in silence for only a few moments before the door opened and the ample presence of Terra Alani-Silbern waddled into the conference room. For a moment, Bree was mentally stunned by her state. She had never seen a woman so heavily pregnant. Overripe was the term that floated, unbidden, to the forefront of Bree's mind. She looked as though she was overdue and could go into labor at any moment.

Terra awkwardly sat down at the head of the table, she looked relieved to be off her feet. Her eyes met Bree's and she flashed her a small, almost apologetic, smile as she sat down. She seemed to sense Bree's thoughts. "Quadruplets," she explained. "Kai's quadruplets if you couldn't tell," she said, waving a hand over her own enormity. "It's what I get for foolishly experimenting with fertility drugs; four huge incessantly kicking babies."

Strauss looked slightly uncomfortable, but Bree simply smiled and nodded. Terra then adjusted herself to make herself as comfortable as she could manage before opening the file in front of her. "So, you are Bree Madigan; Exalted of the Sun, Zenith Caste. Please, don't look so stiff. You are quite welcome here," Terra said warmly. She then turned to Strauss. "But as for you, Maximilian, I have questions for you after we've finished here," she said in a sharper tone. It was the tone of a mother used to dressing down a child.

Bree could tell the tone was something that grated on the vampire's nerves. However, for the moment, she put that out of her mind. She sat, eyeing the Wood Aspected doctor carefully. "You seem to know quite a bit more about me and the Solar Exalted than I would have thought," she said carefully.

Terra noded. "We've already met several of your kind as well as a few of the Exalted of the Stars. Indirectly, we've had contact with some of the Lunar Exalted as well. The Solar Exalted that we are familiar with are trying to form a confederation around which to pursue their own interests and, to a lesser extent, our own."

Bree pondered this news. It was tempting to trust the Dragon Blooded. They had been through so much. "I have had my own vision about the dangers that threaten this world, perhaps, later, we can compare notes on this. For now, however, I have old business I need to settle. I exalted escaping an ambush. There are powerful and supernatural figures who don't want me learning more about my father's death."

"Yes, of course, Barry Wilks is on his way. He has information about that which he was kind enough to gather from the werewolf clans," Terra explained.

"Other than this Mr. Wilks, I hope you won't be informing anyone else of my identity untill I agree to meet with them," Bree said.

"His involvement was necessary. You'll find him quite discreet," Terra assured.

"I understand, it's why I have no objection. Still, one can't be too careful."

"We try to respect everyone's privacy, however, we do like to make 'first contact' face to face, if you will, whenever possible. We only break this rule when someone completely refuses to meet with us. There are dangers out there we feel any Exalt should be aware of, for their own security and the safety of those around them. Afterwards, we will offer them as much or as little assistance as they require; including leaving them to their own devices if they wish," Terra said before she shifted her gaze to Strauss. "We also try not to accidently give anyone away."

"Oh? What have we done?" Strauss asked, genuinely puzzled.

"June of this year, you sent your former protege, Zeke Mason, some blood samples to analyze with the impressive technology and magic available to Vital Fluids Pharmaceuticals. You instructed him to use every available avenue to gather more information about the subject whose blood you sent him," Terra reminded him. "It was the blood of a Solar Exalt."

"I see nothing wrong with this. However, I take it he was more careless than I would have imagined with this information?" Maximilian asked.

"In short: yes. He did all he could with his own resources, then he asked his fellows in New Orleans to analyze the sample. They, in turn, then sent samples to us to analyze as well. This revealed the Solar Exalt's name and identity to us," Terra explained.

"I don't see how it did that," Maximilian said with a furrowed brow.

"Kashi Kimura, son of Jin Kimura, a descendant of the Hakken branch of the Shadowlord Clan. Using our were-creature and Dragon Blooded genetic database, we were able to find out precisely who he is. You knew Jin Kimura was were-blooded. You knew we had this database. By not explicitly telling Mr. Mason not to share it with his fellows, those whom you know we have contacts, you ensured we would find it. Don't act surprised, either. Your only motive was an attempt to fish for more information. You have no true interest in helping the boy. Your only other goal was to keep your involvement semi-deniable," Terra said as she turned her head and looked straight at Bree. "Get used to this sort of multi-level politics and trickery if you're going to deal with vampires. It makes them generally unpleasant. I think Kai used the term 'Machiavellian' to me one time to describe them. And by my count, that doesn't go nearly deep enough"

Strauss stared, icily, he dared not retort, for risk of revealing any more information. Interference from the Manifested was the last thing he needed. The edict from his masters to secure Kashi Kimura's friendship was difficult enough without these new supernaturals hounding him. The brief silence that followed was broken by Bree.

"I'd noticed, but thanks for the heads up. I know Kashi. I used to babysit him and his sister when I was young. It does seem odd to me, though, that there's so much confusion going on," Bree said with a sarcastic smile.

"It's not as strange as one might think. It seems there are several...anomalous...fate snarls over Los Angeles. The Sidereal have been working to untangle it all. They update us periodically on the shifting complexities around the city. Apparently there's some sort of crisis building and fate has been calling for heroes to confront it. However, the Sidereals think the source of the crisis must be outside of fate as they are blind to what it is." She then smiled apologetically again. "That, however, while interesting, is not why you are here. Let's get your business out of the way first. It's the reason for your trip. I'm sure Barry is waiting outside the door for me to let him in," she said, rising heavily to open the door behind her.

The lithe professorial figure of Barry entered. He gave Strauss a curt nod and Bree a excited smile. He sat down across the table from the pair. "I'm so happy to meet you, Miss Madigan. I've read through all of your father's records. He was a good man. His death was a tragedy and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, but it was a long time ago. I'm hoping to finally put all of this to rest soon," Bree said sadly.

Barry opened a file. He scanned a few lines before he looked up. "First, let me start out by explaining that the year your father died, 1999, was one of tremendous upheaval for the supernatural world. The vampire elders were stirring, dire omens of the imminent collapse of the spirit world had begun to appear and centuries of temporal mismanagement were beginning to cause a massive backlash of paradox among the magi. During this period we of the Glass Walker Tribe sought to capitalize on the slow rise of Projector companies, which were leading the way in acceptance of spiritual beliefs. We hoped to push mankind toward safe and spiritually wholesome activities; habits and thoughts that would help guard the realms of men and decrease the power of the corruptive forces that prey on man and harm the balance of the world," he said.

"Sounds noble," Bree said.

"Well no good deed goes unpunished, as it were. One of the most powerful tools of said spiritual corruption is the Pentex Corporation. Pentex knew we had incorporated in California. They began digging their hooks in very deeply in the state government and especially in the police force. Their plan was not just to destroy what we'd built. They wanted to conquer it. They wanted to forcibly take over our company and turn it into one of their own destructive pawns. Our Glass Walker tribe managed to exceed their intelligence capability, but we didn't have enough force in the immediate area to stop their plan. We called out to any of the other werewolf tribes to help. There are two other tribes in the area that were eager to help; the Get of Fenris and the Uktena. The Get of Fenris sent in their easily mobilized force, the Motorcycle Club called the Hand of Justice," Barry continued.

"A gang of criminals known for crippling police officers," Bree spat in disgust.

"I would like to point out that they only did that to those officers who were already corrupt and had betrayed the force. Not that I am fond of defending them. We Glass Walkers often do not see eye to eye with our brother tribes on how to pursue our war against the forces of darkness. The other group, the Uktena tribe, had long kept a force of allied warriors scattered across the southwestern United States and northern Mexico. The...umm...Devil's Wolves," Barry said. He paused in anticipation of Bree's disgust. The Devil's Wolves were almost as notorious as the Hand of Justice.

Bree, however, simply nodded for him to continue.

"Well, your father was keeping watch on his fellow officers who seemed corrupt or on the take. In doing so, your father inadvertently stumbled on our own counter-infiltration into the police. He used the wife of one of the members of the Devil's Wolves as an informant. Jin Kimura's wife. Your neighbor, Banyan. He'd caught her in some sort of compromising position and had leverage on her. That didn't last long, however. The two separated not long after. His lead drying up, your father offered to testify on Jin's behalf in the upcoming divorce proceedings.

Through Jin, the Devil's Wolves were willing to give your father information on cops they suspected were on the take. They reasoned that if your father was able to bring these officers down, it would only make less work for them. They agreed to a face to face meeting with your father. However, less scrupulous cops figured out what your father was doing. In response, Pentex sent a powerful spirit; a possessed assassin to kill your father at this meeting. The assassin sprung and was successful. It murdered your father and battled the wolf-kin and Garou present to a standstill. It was Jin who tipped the balance and dealt the creature a death blow. It was a rather recklessly brave display from what I hear.

Jin then took the fall for your father's death. No one would believe a spirit of corruption murdered your father. None of the evidence that pointed to such a thing was admissible in court. That and, with the defeat of the assassin, the possessed human reverted from a monstrous form of shadow and bile into a normal human. The corpse of the human then dissolved itself," Barry explained.

"Jin started the rumor my father was sleeping with his wife," Bree said shaking her head. "I never thought it was true."

"Yes, so I understand. I don't know about all that, but what I can tell you is exactly who ordered the hit on your father. In this file is his name. He's a vice-president at Endron now. He was promoted. While his tactics didn't stop us, they were a large part of our more cautious approach to our project and the Projectors. In effect he slowed the defeat of Pentex substantially," Barry said sadly.

Bree took the folder. "This file has all of this man's history and where he is now?"

"Oh, yes. Everything we know about him is in that folder. There might be something in there you can use to find a way to see him brought to justice. If not, that there is plenty of information in there for you to find and kill him for vengeance. I can not fault you for either," Barry said quietly, removing his glasses to polish them.

"I prefer justice. However, this man operates so far outside the law and normal channels, that justice might not come from official channels, but the end he meets will be just none the less," Bree said defiantly.

Barry nodded.

Strauss, meanwhile, had been silent. He cared little for werewolf politics. He had been turning over in his mind what to say to turn this meeting to his advantage. He decided a more straightforward, honest tone might serve him better to gauge the Manifested's knowledge of the situation in Los Angeles. "As you have seen through me so completely, perhaps you'd be willing to inform me just _what_ hidden knowledge I possess that I was keeping from you," Strauss asked carefully

Terra did not seem amused. "You're trying to find out about the little girl. I assume you're curious about her unusual genetic structure."

"Wait, there's something wrong with Willow?" Bree asked.

Terra shook her head. "Not exactly. I don't know if I should be sharing this with you but, the girl is not technically my patient. Medical ethics in that respect are hazy. However, more to the point, Miss Madigan; I have a feeling Strauss brought you here today not only to help you as he promised. He also brought you here as a party not aligned with himself, but sympathetic to the girl. He brought you in as a sort of arbitrator between himself and us. He knows he is going to have to give us what he knows in order to receive our cooperation. You are neutral in this respect. You can determine what the girl and her family should be told. You see, even with repaying a favor a vampire will get another use out of you."

"I see," Bree said, none to pleased. She then looked up at the Dragon Blooded. "Now that I have the information I came for, please, continue with your sparring with Maxie here. Let's see what he knows. If he doesn't talk I think perhaps we'll go to Kashi and see how the House of Tremere likes having two Solars, the bulk of the Manifested, and a large portion of the werewolves angry at them," she said with an amused smile.

"Speaking of Kashi Kimura, we obviously know he's a Solar, yet we have not approached him. Our Sidereal allies tell us he's Dawn Caste. Apparently, soon, one of them is going to meet with him. As I said previously, we prefer to meet as soon as possible but the Sidereals have advised us not to interfere in his life just yet because of a myriad of odd tangles in fate around him. They mentioned it looking like a cat got ahold of a ball of yarn. They want to make sure we don't do him or those around him more harm than good. We are reluctantly following their advice. He is wolfkin but that's not really important other than his extended family might be willing to help him," Barry explained.

"Jin always said he had no living family," Bree interrupted.

Barry snorted. "He's a bald faced liar. You said yourself you never believed what he said about your father and his wife. The Kimura Clan is one of, if not the largest, most prosperous bloodlines of wolves and kinfolk. They carefully moderate how much they intermarry, occasionally crossing three distinct branches and never marrying closer than second cousins or first cousins once removed and even that is rare. The marrying of more distant relations is the norm. From an anthropological standpoint it's very interesting with parallels to various Jewish communities who settled in hostile regions during the diaspora," Barry started to explain.

Terra made a small coughing noise. Barry had drifted off topic as he was apt to do and so she brought the conversation back around. "Back to the subject at hand. Despite Jin's heritage, the little girl has no werewolf genetic markers. We know this from the Vampires. During your joint adventure in San Diego, they were good enough to check everyone's blood type." She stopped at that and gave Bree a 'see what I mean' smile and shrugged her shoulder. "As such, it's quite impossible that she's related to Jin. Werewolf markers are very clear and carry through lineages, even if the werewolf ancestor is very distant. Even my own child has werewolf genetic markers through Kai, even though the last werewolf in his ancestry occurred over a century ago."

Barry nodded. "There's another piece of the puzzle. Jin claimed his wife engaged in...prostitution. I assume that was the 'compromising' situation that Bree's father spoke of and most likely what he planned to testify about before his death," he said.

Bree spoke up. "I know Banyan too. She wasn't a hooker. It's more complicated than that. My father kept a secret journal. It was written in a code and hidden. I didn't manage to decode it until I was a detective. It lead me to catching several corrupt cops based on his old, but still valid information on their corruption. It also put me on Pentex's radar as a threat to be eliminated. Which, indirectly, lead to my coming by these powers," Bree said.

"What does the journal say? Our own evidence is extremely contradictory, piecemeal or from dubious sources," Barry said.

"Banyan was given money by a man beyond what one would normally give a tip to a waitress. She thought it was a gift from a kind soul who had seen how her horrid boss treated her. That wasn't the case. He intended it as payment for sexual favors. My father wasn't sure if he'd actually managed to force Banyan into sex or not, but he came around again and my father caught Banyan and this man in an altercation. Before she knew help was on it's way, she'd killed her attacker. Apparently a lucky strike shattered his windpipe and he suffocated. Aware of her husband's criminal history, she knew she would not be given the benefit of the doubt on a manslaughter charge. My father let her leave the scene and reported finding the man dead in the alley alone. He later asked her to help him put Jin away for her own protection. He never threatened her, he just hoped her good will toward him would nudge her to do what was right. That and I think he hoped that Banyan would come to the conclusion that her and her son's life would be better off with that son of a bitch Jin in jail. Of course, my father had to alter his plan when she separated from Jin."

"Odd. Did this man look anything like Jin?" Barry asked.

"Not to my knowledge. I always figured Banyan told the truth - that Willow was conceived during make-up sex. The only reason Jin claimed he didn't sleep with her is because he was too drunk and or stoned to remember," Bree said with disgust.

"Out of curiosity, we tested Jin's DNA as well. We were able to acquire it through some government contacts in the prison system," Barry said. "The daughter...umm...Willow has _some_ of Jin's DNA but none of the werewolf markers. That is completely impossible. As Terra noted, those markers are powerful and stick around. You can't even filter them out on purpose, really. The girl is not Jin's but has Jin's DNA. Impossible in all natural scenarios," Barry explained.

"Which leaves unnatural scenarios. Magic is the most likely culprit. We theorize that some being took Jin's form with such powerful magic that it even duplicated some of his DNA. Not much, but just enough to make the girl have a touch of Jin's lineage. This only adds to the heightened level of abnormality regarding her and her brother's DNA," Terra finished for him.

"Her brother? What is so odd about him? Apart from his powers, obviously," Strauss asked. He seemed genuinely curious.

"Surely you noticed Kashi's blonde hair and blue eyes. Those aren't normally traits that dominate when your father is of Pacific Islander descent with black hair and dark eyes," Bree said.

"There appears to be a magic spell wrapped around the mother. It insures several traits of her bloodline remain dominant, despite the normal rules of heredity. This spell also rejects several debilitating genetic sequences. When one combines the Kimura's selective breeding with this spell's positive and cosmetic changes what one has is a boy who is _extremely_ healthy," Terra said.

Bree smiled. "I'd classify Kashi as indestructible even before he was an Exalt, but Willow's always been rather delicate."

Terra nodded. "I've postulated that the magic woven into her genetic structure is one of the reasons she was able to survive at all. Her birth was traumatic, according to the records, and this explains how she was able to endure."

"She's delicate because of the unique power of the Spheric Magic that is coming to her. It will not be the normal sort. She will be attuned to the underworld," Strauss supplied reflecting on the unnerving meeting he had with Tremere's emissary. "Following that line of reasoning, and what I have heard here, I assume the girl was born of a powerful ghost," he said.

"They can do that?" Bree asked somewhat astonished.

"I'm sure you know that ghost can possess the living and even sire children. Some of the more powerful ones can take on human form, though most chose to appear as a simulacrum of their former self. I suppose that is as good a guess as any," Terra said.

"It isn't a guess. It's been determined by magic cast by the highest experts in Clan Tremere. The very highest." Strauss explained.

Bree cut across Strauss. "That doesn't answer why Banyan has a spell wrapped around her that alters her children's DNA."

"It was likely placed there by a powerful mage who is unnaturally obsessed with his own bloodline, frankly I'm surprised one of his skill left traces science could detect." Strauss said.

"Who?" Bree asked, her tone harsh.

Strauss held up his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "I will not utter the name here."

Bree quirked her head. "I thought we were going to be open, Maxie," she said with a mocking smile.

The jab at his name didn't phase him. The look he gave her was one of such dire seriousness the smile drained from her lips. Moving for the first time during this meeting, he leaned in folding his cold thin hands on the table between them. He made eye contact with both women and in that instant Bree was reminded this creature was a predator. When he spoke, it was softly. "This is a mage of such power he might, even now, despite the protections and enchantments on this building, know if his name was spoken here. It might attract _undue_ attention. You should know that there are agents from the Nine Magical Traditions watching the girl, not only hoping to sway her to their side when she ascends, but also to protect her from this one man. Beyond their protection we are watching as well. That is two levels of safety netting surrounding her. Imagine the power such a person wields to warrant this level of security among both vampire and mage alike. This situation could be the very heart of this 'fate tangle' your allies spoke of. To my understanding you Manifested or Dragon Blooded or whatever you're calling yourselves now are only tepid allies, at best, to the Nine Traditions. That might account for their...silence on the matter."

Terra nodded. She was struck by the mask Strauss wore shattering to give this information. And unlike most things given by a vampire of such experience and rank as he, she did not doubt his seriousness on the matter. "This is true," she replied. "Most of them want us to firmly buck the Paradigm to help them destroy the world's disbelief in magic rather than allow our power to remain masked as Psionic Phenomena," Terra admitted.

"They are rather unreasonable. Other than the Etherites, they don't see that the Manifested, like we Glass Walkers, can't afford to compromise our other goals for such a limited gain," Barry said with an air of frustration.

"The Etherites present their own problem. They are at times… a little _too_ enthusiastic to help. Picture a few hundred mad scientists who have each decided to aid our cause and each in their own unique and unsolicited way," Terra said.

The vampire leaned back in his chair, his face reverting to one of calm indifference. "If the Nine Traditions are able to ensure her safety after her powers awaken, they will likely attempt to spirit her away from her family. That will cause problems in and of itself that I highly doubt they are accounting for in their arrogance, considering Mr. Kimura's powers and protective streak." The thought of Kashi wrapped in a wreath of the sun and fire breaking his chantry doors came unbidden to his mind. With a monumental force of will, he stifled a powerful shudder. "We will be on hand, watching. We will be able to tell you where the girl is and allow her brother and mother to find her again. Something I highly doubt the Traditions are planning to do. If they fail, we will be ready to rescue her and/or warn her brother and Miss Maddigan, if she is close, as well as yourselves here at M.S.I. of her location and status. We have no interest in harming the child or converting her. Such an act would only deprive her of the very powers that make her so special. Our goal is to help her. We wish to cultivate a potential new ally. Any failure or double crossing on our part will cost us that good will as well as antagonize all of you and her brother. I think, given the situation, our good behavior is guaranteed," Maximilian said.

Terra frowned. She didn't like the idea, but she could come up with no alternative.

Barry drummed his fingers on the table. His displeasure was obvious at the idea of trusting a vampire.

Bree pondered the situation and likened it to a deep cover stakeout. At times there was no good scenario and you had to roll with what you had.

"Do you know how long we have?" Bree asked.

"Until her birthday. It's on the coldest, darkest day of the year when the underworld is at it's apex and the forces of life at the nadir. She was quite literally born for this," Strauss said.

"Good. I'll be sure to be back before then. Right now, I have justice to mete out," Bree said, taking the folder in hand and rising to leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Dawson City

Yukon Territory, Canada

Friday, November 23rd

* * *

Bree shivered, despite her multiple layers, as she exited the hotel. As a native Californian, she was not well suited to this northern weather. She remembered how she'd thought it cold when she had visited some of her father's family in Chicago one Christmas. That was mildly chilly compared to arctic blast that whipped around her now.

She had arrived the previous night and checked into the room she'd reserved so she could get out this morning and get a look at the Endron facility. She had been worried that she would be conspicuous, but despite the miniscule size of this small and isolated town compared to Los Angeles sprawl no one paid her any attention.

Protesters inundated Dawson City and local businesses were struggling to keep up with demand from visitors. A large group of activist who had been camping out just off Endron land regularly rotated back to the town to recover from roughing it in the bitter Canadian wilderness. Fresh protesters were always ready to take their place. However, it wasn't just the normal crop of environmentalists that usually dogged Endron. This time, the 'eco nuts' were joined by a group of history and archaeology students from Miskatonic University, who were incensed by Endron's seizing of ancient artifacts discovered at their drilling site. And these were not just well intentioned, idealistic students. Several members of the school's faculty had come to help evaluate a few of the artifacts and to verify the protesters claim that the site was of archaeological value.

News services, both Canadian and international, had shown up to get a quick story, further filling the town and putting an even greater strain on guest services. As Bree watched, a news van just outside the hotel was interviewing the unofficial leader of the Miskatonic group; a man by the name of Agam Singh. Just last night, Bree had seen him on television and casually run a few internet searches to check his background.

She was rather impressed by what she found. He was not an archaeologist himself but a sociologist. He had been at the forefront of organizing university efforts to get involved in 'esoteric' issues around the world. He had made the news in the past debunking false psychics, exposing cults, and shining light on hate groups. She was tempted to stop and listen to what the man was saying in his interview, but it was abysmally cold outside, and she was only going to get colder.

According to the documents the Dragon Blooded had given her, Endron had built an experimental pipeline in a torus connected to a small oil well. The locals were calling it the pipeline to nowhere. It was not meant to get the oil to a location, however, it was meant to be a test of the materials used in the pipeline's construction. A new form of Aerogel had been developed that was reported to be resistant to harsh weather while being stronger, lighter, and safer. If it lived up to its reputation, it would be a major breakthrough; one that vastly cut down on expensive spills, while, at the same time, reduced the frequency with which the pipes had to be replaced.

The Glass Walkers were not fooled. They had seen several false green initiatives spearheaded by the various Pentex companies that were meant to cash in on hype while funneling money away from truly revolutionary items. They also had seen Pentex sabotage true innovations to associate them with disasters to kill their funding.

While the corrupt corporation's motives were unknown this time around, it _was_ known that the man in charge, who spent much of his time on site, Warren Hardy, had long been the go to guy for Pentex efforts to stymie the Glass Walkers. The very man who had been behind her father's death.

Bree got into her vehicle and prepared for the nearly day long drive out from Dawson City to the Pentex site. She had been able to get a permit to carry a weapon thanks in no small part to her ex-law enforcement background and connections within M.S.I. It was not, however, a concealed weapon permit. Bree had a handgun, rifle, and shotgun in carrying cases in the four wheel drive truck she had rented. She also had some advanced photography equipment. Her cover story was she was taking photos and had the weapons for defense should she encounter hostile wildlife.

Aside from her firearms, the other equipment she had was on loan from the Dragon Blooded and was of a quality beyond what could be purchased. They had equipped her with experimental, full color night vision digital camera that featured a wide range of spectrum filtering allowing one to peer into the ultraviolet and infrared. The zoom was not to be believed. She was confident she would be able to get some excellent reconnaissance of the site with these.

Once she knew what she was dealing with she would then make a plan to bring down the man in charge.

* * *

Wilderness Outside the Pentex Facility

* * *

The wolf stood on a snow covered hill clustered with trees. It sniffed the air before turning back. Not far away was shelter. The shelter was hard to see even to its alert eyes which knew what to seek. Upon reaching the refuge the wolf scratched at the hidden door which promptly opened. Mike eyed the wolf and tossed a towel down. "Don't get water everywhere. It's hard enough to keep the mud from getting into everything without you tracking in snow."

There shelter was a hollow space, carved by magic, into the frozen ground. Plastic sheeting made an attempt to keep the heat in and some sections clean of the mud. The heat of two bodies and the occasional bit of sorcery made the space in the center warm enough to rest in, but had the side effect of heating up the frozen soil turning it into a muddy morass quickly. The unheated sections were used to store perishables. A stolen convenience store microwave provided the only source of cooking. Mike had been tossing the leftover plastic trays in a large box in another unheated section.

Axe turned back into his human form picking up the towel. He had been tempted to shake then curl up on it knowing how it would send Mike into grousing fits. He was due for a good rant. It would help him blow off steam. Plus, Mike hated trying to argue with him when he was in either of his less humanoid forms. Despite knowing the werewolf could understand every word, Mike always felt vaguely ridiculous arguing with what appeared to be an animal.

"More protesters," Axe said simply. He moved a few more markers on the map Mike was using to keep track of the area.

"Stupid fucking hippie ass BULLSHIT!" Mike spat, looking at the map.

The camp had quadrupled in size over the last month. While they were not at risk of getting hurt in Mike's planned take down, they were inconveniently placed to observe something they should not see.

"Ever since their lawyer quit on them and their chance to stop this with legal action took a nosedive, those assholes have redoubled their protest efforts. It's starting to piss me off," Mike said in disgust.

Axe sat down and looked at the map. He had scouted the area in his wolf form; as it was something not completely out of place in the wilderness. Once they had a good map of the compound, Mike had had used his magic in several clever ways that were invisible to human eyes. He had planted magically enhanced explosives under the supports for the pipeline. He could drop the line at any time. However, the leader of the Pentex unit was not just some corporate rube. He was a magician of the lesser magics and a demonologist who had pacts with dark spirits. Those spirits might be able to help him get control of the situation. What Mike needed, what the old man from the Technocracy demanded, was a complete disaster. A situation so catastrophic no one would question it being taken out of private hands.

"There is no two ways about it. We've got to whack this Hardy guy and his guard dogs. Now how are we gonna do that without those dipshits seeing something that gives us away?" Mike asked, clearly agitated.

"Frame 'em?" Axe offered.

"They'll likely get investigated for the bombing anyhow, so it's a possibility, but the problem isn't the norms. For most investigators, whatever those hippie asswipes claim to see could be easily disregarded as ranting from a bunch of guilty extremists, but, Pentex would no doubt know the truth and then they'd be wise to our ruse. Remember, it's THEM we have to fool here," Mike reminded his quiet friend.

Axe nodded. "Airport?"

Mike looked at the map. Pentex had constructed a small airstrip for their private use. He stood thinking while pinching his lip. "While the head honcho is coming back on a plane tonight, we couldn't take that plane down in the air without military grade hardware. I could still get it, even on such on short notice, but no one will believe some environmental nuts got hold of an anti-aircraft rocket," Mike said.

Axe again pondered the map. "Tricky," he admitted.

Mike nodded still lost in thought.

Axe had eaten while outside. He preferred catching something to eating the microwave crap that Mike had stocked in their hidden bunker. You didn't find beer in nature, however, so civilization had some benefits. He fished into the storage area and pulled out a six pack, broke off a cold can, and popped the top. He had finished his third can and was opening the fourth when he noticed Mike hadn't moved. He stood stock still, staring at the map with his bottom lip pinched between thumb and forefinger. Axe had only seen him enter the unresponsive state of mages called "quiet" once but it had scared the hell out of him. Mike had been basically comatose for ten days then and Axe really didn't want to see that again.

Suddenly he moved, tossing his hands up in the air. "Fuck it!" He spun and reached into his storage to pull out one of his cheap meals. After slamming it in the microwave with more force than required, he started the device and sat down at the stool and plastic tv tray he used for eating.

"Beer?" Axe offered.

"Nah, I'm good. You drink piss anyway. Okay, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna go back down there and see if we can sabotage the pumping station itself. Maybe we can blow that Pentex son of a bitch up. At the very least, if we have to go in and kill him, a plume of fire from that pump should keep everyone's eyes off what we're doing," Mike said.

"A lot of maybes," Axe replied.

"Yeah, but it's the best we've got right now. I'll take a maybe over nothing. If it ends up dry, we're no worse than we were," Mike said.

To that the wolf had no reply.

* * *

Hours Later

Outside the Pentex Airstrip

* * *

Bree took another reconnaissance photo with her telephoto lens. She was in winter camouflage gear peering over a hill at the Pentex base. She had made some good observations of the facility and her quarry had just landed. Rather than traveling separately, he had ridden in on one of the small cargo jets that brought supplies to this isolated base.

He was personally supervising the unloading of a particular crate. Guards walked along with the unloading crew as they marched along into the laboratory level. She scanned over the plane again and something caught her eye. A crate was opening from the inside. Out of it, a man in leather jacket over a button up shirt and khaki pants crawled out. She watched him sneak up on one of the porters and deck him.

"You have got to be kidding me," Bree said aloud, shocked.

True to the cliche, he drug the man behind some boxes and took his clothing before depositing him in the box. Once he was done dressing, he headed off into the base carrying a package that held his own clothing and effects, rather than its intended cargo as to not look suspicious.

Bree mentally debated what to do. Whoever this nutjob was, they obviously hitched a ride as a stowaway. Then, with their attempt to infiltrate with such a flimsy cover there was no way they wouldn't be caught. That was obvious. The question in her mind was would this lunatic's imminent distraction draw enough attention that she might be able to get into the base herself undetected?

Deciding opportunities like this would not come often, Bree started to make her way carefully down to the facility. After all nothing ventured nothing gained.

* * *

Protest Camp

* * *

Agam Singh was a man of faith; a man devoted to the defense of the innocent from evil. He was a tolerant man who believed all faiths of peace held a glimmer of God's truth. Like many others of his Sikh faith, he sought to expand his own and humanity's understanding of the all pervading spirit by a devotion to learning and truth. He realized, however, that some truths required wisdom to understand and were not meant for all to see. Those without the proper background would misunderstand them and be lead astray.

With his own thoughts so in line with their goals, it was no surprise that the small, secret society that operated out of Miskatonic University had inducted him into their hidden knowledge of occult ways and their quest to protect the world of man from these dark influences by banishing, suppressing and locking away that which man was never meant to know.

It was on one of these mission to banish darkness that he had been filled with light and the righteous fire of the divine. He had used the power and knowledge it bestowed to drive the dark and corrupted spirit and its ghost ally's from the men they possessed and dispelled the ignorance of the cult who had given them power.

There were many dark spirits who were interested in the activity here at this Pentex site. With care, Agam had gathered allies and rallied more protesters, hoping their watchful eyes would push the wicked who ruled this corrupt corporation into ceasing whatever evil they worked here.

Now, however, he felt the coming of yet another dark evil. Something far stronger than the spirit he had confronted, the master of the death cult. It seemed rather than making Pentex cautious, they had made them desperate. They decided on a reckless path bent on unlocking whatever foul power was at this site though the use of magics just as perverse.

Agam rose from his meditation and found his fellow inductee, Professor Beeman, was close at hand. Beeman was nearly seventy. His face was lined like wrinkled parchment and his hair was snowy white. He had taciturnly endured the weather and primitive camping conditions without a word of complaint. He enjoyed putting younger men to shame. It was not by some great physical hardiness or endowment of fortitude. Beeman's body was nearly as frail as he appeared. Inside, however, Beeman possessed a spirit of pure iron and a will of tempered steel. He had been a powerful mystic when Agam was but a boy.

"Do you feel it? They have brought something dark and very evil."

Beeman nodded "I agree, Agam, my friend, it is something of great power. I am not sure what we can do. Can even the power you have been blessed with match it?"

"Where light goes, there can be no darkness. Where knowledge goes, ignorance is dispelled. I do not ask if my power is great enough, but only if I have the courage to bear it into the dark. However, getting to that darkness might be difficult when there are men with guns and hearts full of violence between it and I," Singh, said with a sad smile.

"A snow storm is coming. The weathermen missed it, but my inner eye has seen it. In that storm, I will have the young people here raise a disturbance at the gate. While the enemy is focused on them, you might, swathed in white, make your way into the compound and challenge this evil power," Beeman suggested.

"Then we will let it be so. Do not fear for me, old friend. By faith and will I will rise to best this evil," Agam assured him by placing a comforting hand on Beeman's shoulder.

* * *

Endron Laboratories

New Materials Fabrication and Testing Facility

* * *

Warren Hardy had made a very long and prosperous career out of finding success where others could not. In the cutthroat world of Pentex's interoffice politics, that was not an easy task. Often one had to ensure that one was not only appeasing the right dark masters, but not overly concerning the wrong ones at the same time. The struggle to remain on top had grown harder since the defeat of the Great Wyrm. At least in those halcyon days most of the corporation answered to the same dark master. Now, there were hundreds of spirits each vying to become the top patron of an organization as powerful as Pentex. For now, the dark wizards, vampires, and other creatures that could walk among men were in a prime spot. As the outward rulers of Pentex, they winnowed the field, not bothering to cull the weak for they would naturally fall. They, instead, sought to cull those spirits too abrasive and too toxic for more human centric beings to work with.

That need to court and control spirits brought him to this place. This site was itself a nexus of leylines that contained a powerful relic; an ancient artifact that had been unearthed by Endron contractors while they were constructing their pipeline. Even more tantalizing was the fact that it seemed meant for human hands to wield. With luck, it might be able to put him in an even better position to bargain with the host of spirits that sought to replace the Great Wyrm.

The question was how to use this newfound relic and what powers were contained within? Warren had decided on a dangerous path, however, he felt certain he had planned for every contingency. There had been many cases where another relic was useful in discovering or unlocking a more powerful one. There were also times when a powerful spirit could answer many questions. To that end, he acquired and brought with him one of the most powerful and darkest artifacts ever to find its way into Pentex's possession. It was often dangerous and always costly to use, but he had prepared for those dangers. Already, he had gathered what was needed to pay the price.

The men guarding the metal chest continued to follow Warren while even more men joined and followed in his wake; a quiet, dirge-like procession ever downwards. No elevator had been placed here as some things one simply didn't want a fast way to access. Some things one wanted time to prepare before seeing.

The metal walls gave way to cut stone and the stone gave way to natural cavern. Finally, in what seemed the interior of a giant geode, they came to a stop before the vast brazen artifact. It appeared to be a vessel in the shape of an urn standing three and a quarter meters tall with what appeared to be a seam separating a lid from the body about two and a half meters from the base. The thing was just a fraction over five meters wide in diameter if one discounted some of the embellishments and was covered in low relief images and writing.

The images within the relief were mostly obscene depictions of a myriad of creatures - some humanoid others not. Some some of the grotesque images depicted figures that were half melted in vats while others figures either formed swords out of the the slurry or drank the remaining liquid contained therein.

The portion that might have been a lid had two embossed rings of engravings encircling its diameter. The larger of the two rings featured elaborate pictograms while the inner, smaller smaller ring contained logograms.

The logograms on the massive brass artifact were of a language that was partly translated. It was an antecedent to the oldest Sino-Tibetan languages known. Only one of a few magically preserved objects had survived that contained any trace of this lost script, and only by consultation with very ancient spirits had any been translated. Those spirits claimed the pictograms were even older even than the logographic language.

The translation revealed that the message was a warning. A warning that read that if one could not read the first language, the pictograms, one did not yet have the wisdom to use what was contained within. Only the 'Celestial Ones,' bearers of the Mandate of Heaven, were authorized in its use.

Warren carefully unlocked the chest to reveal the relic he had brought to the site. It was a glossy, black, metallic cube eleven and a half centimeters square. The perfection of that square held up under an electron microscope. Inscriptions were pressed into its surface, each side in a different language. One face had the logograms, another the pictograms while the other four had never been seen before or since by modern man.

The artifact Warren had brought was instrumental in translating this larger one. This giant brass basin was the only other artifact they had found with these pictographic symbols. The sixth, translated side of the cube sported the logographic text. The smaller relic's function was simple: it could summon a powerful spirit. That spirit had confirmed that all six sets of writing on the cube repeated the same message in different languages.

To that end, Pentex had labored to translate the inscriptions on the brass basin using the smaller relic as a sort of Rosetta Stone, but the brevity of the message on the cube had not given them enough words to work with. It was time, Warren decided, to put caution away and go to the source. He would summon the spirit from inside the cube and bargain for it to translate these lengthy inscriptions.

Re-reading the warning and instructions on the relic was not necessary. Warren had memorized them. One of his assistants brought one of the six sedated prisoners to him. He removed the cube from its protective cradle and sat it into a glass bowl. He then slit the prisoner's throat as the assistant tipped him over so the blood would fill the bowl.

"Come, Alveua, the Keeper of the Forge of Night. Come in the name of those who bind you and in answer to the blood we offer. We seek to bargain for your service, here, where the sun shines not, nor the moon's light can reach." It was not quite the chant from the inscription, but a beckoning that had been refined by demonologist over the centuries since this relic was found in the eastern portions of China.

Blackness flowed forth from the cube and wrapped around itself like a cloak before taking the form of a thin, beautiful, girl clad in a dress made from glossy black interlocking metal plates. Her torso was skimpily covered revealing skin which was pale white. Her skin clashed with her hair that was red as blood. Two small curved horns as black and glossy as the metal of her dress sprang from her forehead. In her hands was a hammer, its handle almost taller than she with a double head nearly a meter square on the face with half again that on the longer portion of the sides. The hammer glowed reddish white and gave off a forge-like heat. She turned and faced Warren and sneered. He could feel the power of this malevolent entity boring a hole in him with her pitiless eyes.

"You are not of the chosen and have no right to call, but you make offerings. Do you wish to be perfected?"

"No, not I, but such services may be needed and other materials have been brought for you to craft should the need arise. Behind you there is a relic. I propose we bargain over learning its nature. How it might be used and what the inscriptions on it mean," the demonologist requested.

The demon turned and eyed the large relic behind her. "I could give you a demonstration but, I will not tell you the purpose of this artifact. It would be far more fun to _show_ you. As for the writing, I could forge you a tablet that translates the script into your native tongue, but it would cost you. The life of two of those you have brought as material," she said pointing back at the group of sedated captives.

"Two seems excessive, but I will place trust in you not to be wasteful," Warren said.

It was at that moment that a voice called out into the dark chamber. "STOP!"

Bree stepped out from the curve of the stairway her gun pointed directly at Warren. "I was in no position to stop your first kill. The cut had been made but now I have pictures of you committing murder, Warren Hardy. Send this demon away and I will allow you to face justice in a mortal court for murder. If you do not, it will be my pleasure to end your life for your many, many crimes."

Warren laughed. "Kill her. She can be the first to be forged into a tablet."

The demon moved faster than anything Bree had seen; even faster than some of the vampires she had encountered. The creature wielded its hammer with a fluid grace that belied the object's bulk. Bree changed targets and fired with no hesitation, calling on her Exalted gifts before the hammer could strike her. Golden power followed her bullets as they slammed into the metallic sleeve of the demon girl's arm knocking her slightly off balance. On Bree's forehead, her Caste Mark flared to life.

The demon stopped and stared in shock at that golden disc of light. Then turned to shout at Warren. "You ignorant, fool! This is no ordinary foe! She is of the Chosen! Keep the box away from her if she gains it, all is lost!" Her voice was strained with fury, the fury of one who had seen her mortal foe revealed before her.

Seeing no damage to the demon, Bree gave ground while aiming for her unarmored face. "You are an unholy creature and I bring the Sun's Judgement," she taunted.

Warren waved to two of his companions. "Transform and help Alveua," he ordered. The two started to turn into what could only be described as monsters. Deformities and growths exploded from their flesh, revealing crustacean like armor and slimy tendrils. Before they could act, both staggered and blood began to pour from their now twisted bodies. Between them a giant, brown Crinos form werewolf appeared. The half human, half wolf war machine had already sunk claws into both and with a sickening sound of bone and blood colliding he pulled them into each other in a slam.

Warren rushed for the box hoping to pull it from the bowl as instructed, but he hit something invisible in his path. With stars in his eyes, looked for a brief second and saw a dark haired, short man before him. Then, several gigawatts of electrical power shot from the figure's blue eyes as Warren Hardy's own eyes ruptured in a gory explosion.

"Axe, stop playing with those things and clear us a path. I'm blowing the charges first chance I get," Mike, said, whirling to grab the cube for himself.

Before he could, however, something swung down a rope tied to the catwalk that ran over the monstrously large brazen relic and sntached the cube up mid swing. "Thanks, the National Museum will be grateful for your donation," the figure in Pentex work overalls said as he landed on the stairs and started to rush up the way Bree and the Demon Alveua had vanished.

"Who the fuck was that?!" Mike bellowed.

Axe tossed one of his foes into the brass relic, smashing its skull before turning to give an indifferent shrug.

"I'm going after him. I want that thing. Finish these demon tainted fucks off and hurry after me will ya? We ain't got time to play around," Mike shouted as he rushed up the stairs.

Axe sighed as he ripped a piece of metal out of the scaffolding and used it to block the snapping beak of the mutated being he was still fighting. Mike was like a brother, but sometimes, like most siblings, he just wanted to dunk his brother in an ice cold lake for being an asshat.

* * *

Endron Laboratories

New Materials Fabrication and Testing Facility

Lobby and Public Relations Area

* * *

Bree knew she had done the right thing moving to save the captives, but now she was unsure of the long term wisdom of her actions. This creature was far more powerful than even the Elder Vampire Kashi had fought in San Diego and while her gifts were potent, she did not have Kashi's resilience or his supernaturally enhanced physical strength, two things that would definitely have come in handy. The female demon also seemed to know the sort of powers the Exalted wielded and, while cautious of them, was by no means fearful.

While in the cramped corridors, she had managed to give ground and play to the strength of her weapon's longer range, while exploiting the lack of room for her foe's hammer to swing. She had managed a few hits on the black clad nightmare's armor but only one wound seemed to have inflicted enough damage to bleed.

The demon had smashed walls with her ridiculously large weapon and managed to get out into open ground. The large reception area that Pentex would have visitors linger at held displays of their new technology it had several seating areas and was three stories tall. The second story had a balcony the third was just windows so the administration could look down into the area.

Free to move the demoness kept blocking Brees attempts to exit the open area and find more favorable ground racing ahead of her with lightning speed. Brees anima had flared her white gold aura filling the space the ruby red bird in the middle crying out in frustration at being unable to do more than nick this demonic foe.

The demon seemed to be enjoying herself but Bree could tell this was partly a mask. Annoyance crossed the demon's face whenever she failed to connect with her hammer. She took her frustration out on any Pentex employee unfortunate to be nearby. Now, however, she was out of living beings to slaughter. In a fury, she pounded the ground in a heavy two handed over the head swing that had the power of an industrial pile driver.

Bree dashed away from her foe before the hammer could connect. She rolled behind the receptionist desk. The former police officer used the cover as a rest to steady her weapon and took careful aim. The demon Alveua, true to her former tactics, raced straight for Bree's cover, her arms working the hammer back into position for another blow.

Two things happened at once. Bree let go of her shot aimed at the demon's eyes and suddenly, from the direction of the front doors, came a shriek like an eagle. A bird fashioned of pure flame raced toward the demon at arrow like speed. Alveua had turned her head to see what was oncoming. The movement turned her eyes and Bree's bullet hit her low on the cheek bone. Her face and side of her jaw exploded her flesh ignited with the golden fire in Bree's bullet.

Acting on pure instinct, Bree dropped for cover. Her instincts were proven right as the air exploded with flames as hot as a bonfire. The demon let out an inhuman scream.

As soon as the air was clear of flames, Bree leapt up scanning the area. Alveua was down but not dead. Standing in the doorway was a brown skinned man in his early fifties in a white hooded snow suit his hood had fallen back revealing a blue turban in the dastar the turban shone a golden disc like Bree's own. Around this man the air was rippling as light was building into something.

"Demon of the darkness, you have no place in this world! I command you return to exile and confinement and trouble this world no more with your wickedness! Whatever invitation the unrighteous extended to you is revoked by my will!" As the Sikh spoke, the ripple of light flared and coalesced into a magnificent sinuous dragon of white gold. In the air around it danced letters of fire that spelled out passages from holy texts from around the world.

Alveua rose, laughing, as her cheek healed. "You have no power over me, old man. It was your kind who bound me to remain in the world. Without the key to command me, however, your words are as meaningless as..."

A sharp whistle came from the balcony. The man Bree had seen sneaking into the building, still in an ill fitting Pentex jumpsuit, dramatically held out the glossy black box that had called the demon forth. "You mean this, honey?" he said with a smirk.

Alveua snarled. "In your hands it will do nothing. Only the Usurpers, the so call 'Princes of the Earth' can use it!" She started for the man, but his brow flashed with the half empty half full circle of the Twilight Caste. Seeing this, the demon skidded to a halt in panic.

"That's right, sweet cheeks, now get back in...OOOPH…." he was interrupted as he was knocked to the ground while being tackled from behind.

Bree had slipped quietly from her place behind the now flaming reception desk and had been creeping stealthily up the stairs. Her goal was to use the distraction to go back for the drugged victims the sorcerer had planned to sacrifice. From her position she could see much. The Sikh had stepped back out the entrance and seemed to be making arcane gestures.

Here, on the balcony, a dark haired pale guy in jeans was wrestling with the would be infiltrator for the box. He managed to toss the Twilight over the railing. This new comer then held out the box "Get back in the box. I don't have time for you."

The demon laughed. "You fool, you are similar to an Exalt but are not a Prince of the Earth. You are a pale copy at best. You do not have the authority to command me. You are ignorant of the spells used to obtain even a semblance of that control," the infernal creature gloated.

"I told you I don't have time for this horseshit! Alright, fine, you want to piss me off you'll get what's coming to you, bitch! I not just some two bit hack like the guy who summoned you. I've seen and know things and have the power to use them." His voice took on a strange cadence.

"I know that all things born of this world die. I've see the Pit, the Abyss where the world ends and all your Master's creations come to naught. Floating in that darkness are the Tombs of That Which Made the World. That which never was of the world and thus never born to it may never die. But slain they are and so they cannot live. Caught between life and death they bleed and suffer and you will feel their torment. I call from the depths the form of their writhing agony for I wield the fire that hungers for the blood of those that shaped this world into being and joys in the misery of all things they wrought. To defy me is to know suffering beyond death. Obey me or face the Pyre Flames!"

The demon starred in aghast horror as harlequin green flames rose from the mage's free hand. The flames did not light the room but seemed to draw the light out of it oddly bringing things into a sharper detail. Even from where she crouched Bree could feel their cold leeching away at the heat of the room.

Bree rose and shot the box out of this madman's hand. She was unsure what this power he called up was, but it reeked of evil and she was having none of it.

"The fuck!" The dark haired man took off, sprinting for the box in a panic. He didn't even seem to care who shot at him, such was his intent to reclaim his prize. Bree dashed back the way that the mage and before him the Twilight had come. It had to lead back to the basement tunnels were she would find the helpless prisoners.

The scuffle over the box continued. Marshall Thompson had been all over the world and had involved himself in the very risky enterprises of hunting lost antiquities, often liberating them from the hands of black market dealers. He was also an unimbued hunter of monsters. He was not about to let a single story fall stop him. He lifted himself up carefully from the table he had crushed when he had stopped his rather abrupt journey down from the balcony. He worked to refocus his eyes and get moving despite the pain he was in.

To his right was the mage who had tossed him over. He was literally sliding down the banister while holding the hand coated in the nimbus of pyre flame well away from his body. The stuff was nasty. It could not be extinguished, burned cold instead of hot and annihilated any matter it came into contact with leaving nothing, not even the energy said matter was composed of.

To his left the demon was racing for something not far away. She held her hammer to the side as if for a wide defensive swing.

In front of him were the doors leading outside. Through them came Professor Agam Singh in a run. He had turned his skin into bronze somehow. His hand had also twisted into impressive looking claws with a wood grain pattern. He screamed at the demon. "You will not gain this prize!"

As the three converged, the demon's hammer struck the Sikh, despite his attempt to catch the weapon. Its momentum sent him into the mage who reached around the professor to make contact with the hammer with his flame wreathed hand. This sent pyre flame racing down the hammer's haft toward Alveua herself. The demon released the weapon rather than risk the flames making contact with her flesh.

Marshall had already started to dash. Without the demon's grip what would have been a crushing blow to both men just sent them sprawling to the floor. This, however, had two unfortunate effects; the floor nearby was already weakened from Alveua and Bree's battle and the weight of being struck by the hammer once again as well as the impressive weight of a man sized hunk of bronze was not good for its structural integrity. Secondly, on impulse, the mage had tossed his arm out to cushion his fall. The pyre flames spread out across the floor sinking into the cracks.

Marshall raced past, grabbing the cube and leaping over the spreading flames. The Demon was so distracted by trying to keep her eyes on the deadly magical pseudo fire that she was unable to prevent him from getting his hand on the box. Her quick reaction speed sent her reaching for him but she was too late to stop him from verbalizing. "Back in the box. I command it!"

With those words she vanished. Agam Singh lifted himself up and saw a simple solution to both the troublesome mage and the spreading flames. He struck the floor with his claws in a cracked spot that the flames had not yet filled. The entire lobby gave out a groan and started to fall in on itself. Both he and Marshall sprinted for the door in interest of self preservation.

Neither saw Mike hastily dismiss his pyre flame-spell and desperately leap and roll to escape the flaming section of floor. Nor was anyone but Mike close enough to hear the electronic *BLEEP* that came from his pocket as he hit the ground. They did, however, hear his resigned exclamation of "Oh... FUCK!"

After that the night was filled with multiple ear splitting explosions and a horrid flaming red light as the entire circular pipeline and oil well that fed it went up. The ruptured pipe sent a wave of ignited oil surging outwards in a tide of death and destruction. The office building was uphill but aftershocks began to rock the building as the caves underneath it started to buckle.

"Come with me, stranger. I am from Miskatonic University. We will lock this evil thing away in our vaults so that it might never be used again," Singh said to Marshall.

"Lock it away?! Is that all you Miskatonic sorts can think of doing? It doesn't belong in a vault. It has to be studied and understood. It's a part of deeper mysteries that still have to be explored," Marshall said.

"It is too dangerous. It has to be secured, contained, and protected from those who would use it!" Singh exclaimed.

"Never! It's a piece of history! I won't let you cover that up," Marshall replied, shifting the box to his left hand while moving away from Singh.

Singh moved to close the gap between Marshall and himself. He raised his claws. "Give me the box!"

"No," Marshall said, drawing a pistol with his right hand. There was a high pitched metallic ping as he then unceremoniously shot the professor twice in both legs.

Singh fell to the ground. His bronze skin saved him from the worst of the bullet's force but both legs felt like they had been struck with a bat. Unable to follow, he could only blink as his vision blurred with tears of pain. He watched the other man steal a car from the parking lot and race away with the box. Resigned to being unable to catch up, the professor started to crawl away in the direction of the front gates. He hoped he could find some of his compatriots among the protesters to help him escape.


	3. Chapter 3

Endron Laboratories

New Materials Fabrication and Testing Facility

Second Floor Hallways

* * *

Bree raced down the hallway, retracing her steps to find her way back downstairs. She turned at the sound of gunfire. Down the hall, which ended at a 'T' shaped intersection, she found the five remaining prisoners. The door to an office had been kicked in and the hostages huddled inside. They were being defended by a man with long brown hair in a dark leather jacket, faded jeans, and a old ratty t-shirt. The group had been caught by Pentex security. As Bree attempted to reach them, the long haired man fired his gun from around the corner. Seizing her chance, Bree dove into the room.

"Out the window! I'll cover you," the man ordered.

"Isn't this the second story!?" One of the more lucid victims asked.

"GO!" He ordered, rising to fire.

"I'll help you," Bree said. Spying a bright red box on the wall, she broke it open and grabbed the quilted fire hose that was inside. She raced past the stranger, braving another hail of bullets as she crossed the hall, to another office that faced the front of the building. She used the butt of her gun to shatter the window and tossed the hose out the window for the hostages to use as a makeshift rope. The fierce Canadian cold howled through the shattered glass as she cleaned away as many shards as she could. "Come on! You can climb down, just be careful!"

The shell shocked victims stumbled through the hall to the door as Bree leaned out the door carefully laying down more cover fire adding her bullets to the hail from the stranger on the other side. Soon they were all in the room and attempting to get down the hose.

The stranger's ammunition was running low. He dropped the gun and drew two hatchets. He turned to Bree. "Get them out."

Bree was about to berate the man for pulling a melee weapon during a firefight when he suddenly grew from a six foot tall man to a nine foot tall shaggy brown beast who charged down the hall. Its only vocalization was a snarling growl that didn't need interpretation.

The beast was so large it had to hunch over as it charged down the hall. As Bree carefully peaked around the corner of the door, she couldn't see around its massive form to target anyone which meant neither could the Pentex men target her or the prisoners. Bree turned to make sure they were getting down alright. Only one had not made it.

"I can't...I can't," the last one babbled, obviously distraught at the thought of the climb. Bree surprised the woman by pulling the hose over and tying it around her just under her arms. Then, with an unceremonious shove, pushed her out the window while holding the improvised rope. The frightened woman let out a blood curdling scream, but Bree ignored that and carefully lowered her down to the relative safety of outside. That task complete, Bree turned to see what had became of the werewolf.

He was returning down the hall covered in blood, his maw and hatchets dripping with gore. Before he reached the office, he collapsed. As he hit the floor he started to shrink. To Bree's surprise, he did not turn back into a man, but into a large canine; a brown and cream timber wolf. The wolf made an attempt to claw its way forward. It let out a piteous whine and sank to its belly, it's head lolling to the side unconscious.

Bree looked back the way it had come. She saw only shredded flesh and walls splattered with blood. If there were Pentex survivors, they'd fled. She started to wonder how to safely move the injured beast when the floor shuddered beneath her and the thunderous blasts of multiple explosions shook the air.

As the building lurched, Bree made the snap decision that remaining where they were was a certain death. Any harm she did the injured wolf by moving it could not be worse than leaving it to be crushed by a collapsing building. She lifted the beast into her arms and rushed for the window. She charged through it at a run, leaping through it and aiming for a large bush she had seen while helping the others down.

The landing was painful, but nothing was sprained or broken. Bree forced herself to get back up and keep going. As she got further from the building, she could see the sky was illuminated by a baleful light. The air was rippling with the heat of distant flames. A single sports car raced away from the parking lot, unchallenged by Pentex security. What little remained had been overwhelmed by the protesters who had flooded past their perimeter and were coming to give what aid they could to the hostages.

Bree saw something in the parking lot. The bronze form of the Sikh who had tried to help her against the demon. He had pulled himself behind some bushes where the advancing crowd could not see him. He was fortunate that he was no longer glowing. He would have stood out, even amid the swirling backdrop of flames. He was also lucky he wasn't dead. While his attack had been valorous, she could tell he was in no way a combatant. She made her way to him and set down the injured wolf beside him. The turbaned man flinched slightly at her abrupt entrance. "Easy there. I'm not going to hurt you. Is there any way to drop this power? To turn your skin back into flesh? If not, your secret is going to come out."

"Cry out for Beeman. He will fix this. He knows and will not betray us," he said through gritted teeth. He was obviously in pain.

Bree turned. "Beeman! Is there a Beeman around?"

Beeman had already seen her. The older man had immediately suspected what she was concealing and was already making plans to retrieve his friend. He turned to the two students beside him. "You and you come with me. The rest of you check those survivors there do not get too close. The fire is moving into the building, we must get away soon!" The students raced to obey his authoritative decree.

He and the two students raced over to where Bree was crouched next to Agam's form. "Singh, my friend, I warned you this foe might be beyond even your powers," Beeman said in a worried tone.

"It was not the demon! A vile rouge who somehow is imbued with the Light of the Sun shot me in the legs," Agam Singh lamented.

Bree was stunned. "Wait, the loony who had the box shot you?"

"He did! Then he drove away in a stolen car," Singh explained.

"I will wrap you in a one of my simple spells that will divert attention away from us. It is nearly as good as true invisibility in chaos such as this. We have another a problem though, my friend. These men can help you stand but they can not lift you in this form. You will have to find the strength to walk," Beeman said.

Singh rolled over and prepared to lift himself up. "Bring the large truck up to that curb. It can bare my weight. I can make it that far I'm sure and we will drive out of here."

"This animal is a werewolf. He was injured protecting defenseless victims of Pentex's evil. Surely you can help him as well?" Bree pleaded.

"Werewolves? They are very dangerous. Still, we will not turn him away just for that, especially if he gave aid to those in need. Put him in the truck toward the front," Singh said. Bree began to hope they would get away from here without further incident.

* * *

Pentex: Manifested Division

Detroit, Michigan

Saturday, November 24th

* * *

There were only two Manifested on duty at the office. It was a holiday weekend and most everyone else was gone. The pair were a study in contrasts. Cheryl was American born. She was African American and her transition to Fire Aspect had darkened her skin to a hue that was very close to coal. While her body temperature was only a degree or two higher than normal, her entire form was usually wreathed in a shimmer-like distortion effect that was commonly known as heat haze. Her hair and turned blue and white. She had it buzzed short and it looked like small tongues of flame. Her eyes had turned coppery orange with irises that almost glowed red. She was among the initial wave of American Manifested and her imprisonment by the government had left her angry and distrustful of pretty much everything the world had to offer.

The other was a Middle Easterner named Talia. She had worked for Endron Oil, a subsidiary of Pentex, before her Manifestation. In her job as a clerk in their Arabian offices, she was unofficially tasked to explain customs or matters of cultural import to the western executives that filled the upper echelons of such offices. Talia found her Exaltation to be liberating. It freed her from the corporate glass ceiling as well as the local cultural disdain for women who tried to be independent and self sufficient. Like her colleague, her Exaltation had changed her appearance, however, not as dramatically as Cheryl. Exaltation had tinted her skin, eyes and hair color but left most of her other features alone. Her new Mediterranean 'blue within blue' eyes and baby blue tinge to her skin were remarkable, but what stole everyone's attention was her hair. It was a brilliant white which was illuminated every so often by small flashes of silvery blue lightning bolts. In an inverse of her colleague, her temperature was a degree or so lower than normal and she often exhaled a vapor or mist when she had to breath hard.

The quiet of the slow day was broken by the simultaneous chime of both of their phones and their office computer beeping. The sound alerted the two to a new mission that needed to be carried out. Cheryl pulled up the report, read it and then read it again. She called out to to the other Dragon-Blooded in the office. "Arm up, Talia. We have a mission."

Talia wandered in from the employee lounge. "What? What sort of mission?"

"The New Material Fabrication plant blew up. Environmentalist sabotage, maybe even werewolves. That's not our mission, however. Someone used the explosion as cover to steal a relic. We have to find the guy and get it back. Lucky for us, they have a tracer spell on the artifact," Cheryl explained.

Talia pulled out her phone and scrolled through the mission herself. "Let's try to do this with some restraint. It looks like the attack has drawn Technocratic attention. We don't need a firefight drawing attention to us as well. They'd likely put two and two together, Cheryl. Pentex doesn't need a war with the Technocracy. That would be very bad for the bottom line," Talia said.

"Spoilsport," Cheryl teased.

"Cheryl!" Talia warned, drawing her name out like an admonishing parent would to a child.

"Sure, sure, we'll do this quietly. I promise," the Fire Aspect replied.

Talia shook her head as she left to check her gear. She decided not to worry too much. Even if Cheryl decided to have some fun, how much of a disaster could a fight with one lone man be?

* * *

Endron Laboratories

New Materials Fabrication and Testing Facility

* * *

The outside perimeter was swarming with police and military. They were busy containing the crime scene and keeping order. The inside had been given over to experts. Most of these experts were accomplished in their field ready to find out what disaster or assault had wrought such havoc. Individuals who knew each other either from working together in former cases or by reputation. There were quite a few that no one really recognised however. Several times someone would think to go ask these men who they were along the way there they would remember some other important matter that took precedence or be interrupted by a colleague who had made a discovery.

These men blocked off the path to the tunnels under the hill the facility was built on. If anyone had made it past them they would likely wonder why these professionals were taking notes from the verbal report of an aged street punk in an old hoodie.

"You're sure it was three of them?"

Mike had grown tired of the repeated questions. "You know, I might be just an outside contractor, but I know how to fucking count," he snapped at the flunky.

"There's no reason to be belligerent, this is just routine questioning."

"I think that's enough," Claus said, jauntily making his way toward the group.

"Yes sir, Senior Director, sir," the flunky said, melting back into the throng that were working on the site.

"Senior Director, huh? I guess that would make you Augustin Claus-Werner Von Rayner. If I'd known I was talking to the earthly leader of the Technocracy, I might have asked for more money," Mike said.

"You wouldn't have gotten it. I did credit and extra half million to your card and here is some contact information. I'm serious about changing sides. You might be a snide, cocky, aggravating son of a bitch, but you get things done and I can respect that," Claus said with a smile.

"You guys didn't find Axe, did you?" Mikes eyes narrowed as he wondered if they had done something to his friend.

Claus shook his head. "Found, no, but from your report we are pretty sure he left with the caucasian female and Professor Agam Singh. He was injured, but I doubt fatally given how resilient shapeshifters are. I have no plan to pursue him or them. It's really not worth the effort right now. I have to put together a unified plan for how to deal with these new Manifested. Tricky stuff, really. Like the original ones they have the potential to be either our greatest allies or most bitter enemies."

"No middle of the road. How German," Mike quipped.

"With power such as theirs, there never can be a neutral path. Power of such scope as they posses has a gravity; you either get crushed by it, orbit it, or join with it. I haven't championed the cause of reason and order for nearly two hundred years to see us crushed or become the third wheel to another power," Claus said sharply.

"Right, well, that's not my business. I gotta find Axe and repay that bitch who shot the cube out of my hands. I could see it in the demon's eyes. I had her. She feared me and was going to go back into that cube to avoid the pyre flames." Mike shook his head. He was definitely going to see that soulless ginger abomination pay.

"As I understand it, that's some pretty impressive magic, in particular for someone who hasn't sold out to the malefic powers of the underworld," Claus said with one raised eyebrow.

Mike gave the old man a withering look. He was pretty sure what he was getting at. "Want to be sure I'm not a Nephandus?"

"It would make my mind rest easier, yes," Claus admitted.

Mike took a deep breath and began to explain. The sooner this was over, the sooner he got paid. "Alright, sure, well you know…." He stopped and looked at Claus. 'Alright, well, maybe you don't know. Let's start over again. The Euthanatos used to use their Sphere of Entropy to muck around with the underworld. That stopped after the rules started changing a bit in 2005, you know when time travel shutdown and death became something magic couldn't overcome even with extreme effort. Their magic always focused more on when people should die than what to do once they were dead, but it expanded to cover a lot more. The emo fucks started calling it Fate now rather than Entropy. Most are rather pleased with the changes; well as pleased as the dark mascara and and black trenchcoat set can be. They were worried their old powerset was leading them into dark nearly Nephandi paths. A few had reported dark whispers coming to them from the heart of the underworld. They listened to the Projector's tales of the Grand Maw with concern and generally pussied out about the whole thing."

"Most but not all?" Claus asked. He suspected he knew where this was going.

"Yeah. A few didn't like having their old toys taken away. So, they started experimenting. They knew there were still many powerful lieutenants of the Grand Maw running around, so they started hunting them. They were no strangers to soul forging and most ectoplasmic beings, even those who were never human, can be turned into soulsteel. You'll forgive me if I don't explain the exact details of the artifact I use," Mike said.

"Armlet on your upper left arm. Under your hoodie and shirt," Claus said.

"Fuck," Mike replied, stunned. This old man was better than he thought.

"Well, no matter. The details of who you bribed or stole from to obtain it aren't my concern. I won't hold you any longer now that I know for sure you're not a thrall to inhuman powers."

"Um..."

Claus pulled his space fold out of his pocket. "Oh, yes, that. No, I haven't forgotten. I know the value of family relics. I allowed my descendants to keep many of my old things, you know. I had their wills arranged to return them to me should their lineage ever end. Too bad I hadn't heard of you some years back. I had to hire some talented mundane thieves to steal some of my old keepsakes back from this haughty Spanish twat with delusions of royal grandeur. It was quite aggravating."

Claus pulled the Staff of the DeAngelo's out of the fold and handed it to Mike; who stroked the artifact with an uncharacteristic reverence. "My old man got killed trying to be a hero. They all did, really. Now I'm the last of the DeAngelo's," he said, lost in the moment.

"Don't you have a brother?" Claus asked. He had skimmed some parts of Mike's dossier but he was pretty sure he had seen that.

"Yeah...well, he's an idiot," Mike said, lower the staff and looking back at the director. "I guess they all were in their own way or they'd be alive," he finished with a shrug, his customary irreverence returning. The moment had past.

"Don't be so hard on them. Their mistakes taught you the lessons you needed to avoid their fate. In more ways than one they made you what you are. True greatness will always shine through in the blood. You can be great yet not follow their path. Contact me if you wish to forge your own," Claus said rising and walking away.

Mike put the staff into an inner pocket of the hoodie that had similar magic to the Old Man's space fold. He wanted to disregard the Old Man's words but for some reason he kept thinking back on them even as he started working some spells to start tracing Axe.

* * *

In a Motorhome

Traveling South on YT-2S

* * *

Bree was surprised that the professors had been prepared to flee on such short notice. They had explained that there were powerful groups that tended to descend on and cover up any noticeable supernatural events. Escaping before getting swept up in the cover up was something of an art form among smaller organizations like theirs.

They had quickly abandoned the disaster sight and stopped a few miles east to allowed a colleague who had followed them in another vehicle to look over the injured werewolf. Beeman had mentioned with a dry humor that while those in need of minor medical care at the protest camp had been nervous about the camp's best trained medic being only licensed to work on animals, this patient might consider himself lucky.

The vet had dug out shrapnel, a few bullets, and then cleaned and stitched the wounds. It was obvious the young man was talented and he informed Bree that despite the mysterious canine's look, a few markers made it obvious he was not one hundred percent wolf. By the time they had finished, Professor Singh had returned to normal.

The trio quickly realized there was no way to move the larger artifact in the tunnels. That and, even if they had the means to do so, there was no time before the vultures descended. Instead Bree and the professors had quickly agreed that they should follow the box. Singh thought he could track the feel of the artifact if he grew closer to it, but at this distance he could only provide a direction.

They had set out immediately after the surgery, but found themselves playing catch up. While the mad man with the box had stolen a more fuel efficient and faster vehicle, it was unlikely that he would invite unwanted attention from law enforcement by speeding and they had three people to swap out driving. Bree remained in the back, violating a personal rule to always wear her seatbelt. Instead, she stroked the injured canine in a soothing manner, attempting to calm the creature.

They stopped for gas a few hours later and Singh took the second shift driving. Bree. meanwhile, ran into a store and bought some basic necessities while the RV was fueling. She hoped it would cut down on further stops.

Once she was back in the RV, she felt around the werewolf's wounds. There was no sign of seepage so the stitches were holding. "I know you're not a dog, but you sure are soft. You need to eat something. Come on eat a bite. Human food is not balanced for a canine so this is the best option," she said, holding out a can of dog food.

The beast moved his head into her lap and pushed her hand with its nose. Bree resumed her petting, making sure to be careful of his wounds. He had been quite stubborn in his refusal to try the canned dog food. This had been her third try.

Beeman shook his head. "He's an intelligent creature, but I've never spoken to a werewolf. I've only caught glimpses over my shoulder while running for my life."

Bree thought about what she had read both from the Tremere and from the Glass Walkers. "I hear they are deadly warriors. I've also heard that most of them don't hold human lives in very high regard. However, it's hard to be leery of something that wants me to pet it."

"This man, the one you said stowed away on Pentex's plane. I wonder if he's from a rival branch of the company? Their infighting has become legendary in recent years," Beeman said, changing the subject.

"The power we hold is aligned with truth and enlightenment. I feel it in my very soul. I must wonder how a man who shoots another of his own kind could have acquired such power?" Singh said, obviously worried by what this might mean.

Bree thought for a moment about what Agam Singh said. She too felt the pull toward righteousness and truth, but she could not say the same for Kashi. He was a good kid, but that's what he was. A kid. She also most definitely could not say the same for the other Solar Exalt she knew of. She had only learned of his ascension recently, in a private meeting with Terra shortly before she'd left. The shyster lawyer, Edmond Campeggio. Terra had tipped her off to his status before she left in case she needed legal help.

Terra had no way of knowing that Bree, for the most part, never trusted defense attorneys. Most of them were too slick and used legal loopholes to get the guilty off the hook. They were also usually in love with themselves and while the Dragon Blooded were indebted to Campeggio, she felt the lawyer had done the right thing for the wrong reason; mostly self aggrandizement. As such, she framed her response carefully.

"I don't know professor. I only know of two others of our kind and of those, I only know one personally, and he's well...he's a child. His youth and eagerness govern almost everything he does. The other I know only by reputation; a high priced, preening defense attorney. Their kind is almost universally shady. So, there's something to the selection process we don't understand," Bree said darkly.

"I know I am committed to educating and preparing those souls who are ready and mature enough to make use of the powers my lessons unlock. The powers that I used in combat are of this nature; Sorcery of the Emerald Circle," Singh explained.

Bree had never heard of this style of Sorcery, but something felt familiar about it. "What of your own native powers?"

"Unsuitable for combat. The skills given to me by the light of truth are that of teaching, debating, judging the character of others and truthfulness of their statements," Singh explained

Bree nodded. "Like I said, I have only met one other of our kind in person. Those were most definitely _not_ his powers. However, I know we can teach each other powers, so long as we have the mundane skills to channel them properly."

Singh's face was not visible but it was obvious from his body language Bree's statement had set his keen mind into motion. "I feel there is a necessary spiritual component to our powers that we do not fully comprehend. However, if what you say is so, then power to teach others quickly is a power of great impact. The teaching of others will become a task of primary importance."

"As will be judging their character," Bree added.

* * *

Spectre Books

New Orleans

* * *

Remington Spectre was a busy man. He was, in addition to being the representative for the Hunters on the New Orleans Council, also the head of internal affairs and internal security. Mira Giovanni, the contact he had made long ago within that house of necromancers, had scheduled a conference in December and there were still plenty of preparations to be made. He was thankful Heather was handling the scheduling nightmare of juggling time off requests alongside a VIP visit so close the the Holidays.

He was not in the best mood when his secretary passed him an urgent call on his encrypted line.

"Speak," he gruffly.

"Doc! Jesus Christ, it's good to hear you," said the voice on the other line.

Spectre thought a moment trying to place the voice. "Marshall?"

"Yeah, it's me, Doc. Look, I need help getting back into the States. It's a touchy situation," the archaeologist pleaded.

Spectre's friendship with Marshall Thompson went back more than a decade. He had helped train the man in the hunt. Normally, it was something Spectre was reluctant to do for the unimbued. Such powers were often necessary to even the odds against the supernatural. He expected the archeologist to be dead in a year. His protege had, however, beaten the odds and not died. Earlier this year he'd called with some very interesting news.

"The last time we talked you told me about your Exaltation. When I asked you to come back in so we could hook you up with some others that were like yourself, you said that it wouldn't be possible. Protecting the antiquities of the Middle East from fundamentalists and terrorists was too important."

Marshall sighed. "Well, it lead me to where I am, Doc. Terrorists aren't the only ones smashing and destroying history. You've also got the kind who are trying to erase the past and cover over anything that doesn't match their world view. Or those that are in deep need of money for whatever reason and see a relic as a quick way to make some cash."

Doc opened up his laptop and put the phone on speaker. He rolled his eyes. He'd heard this lecture before. "So you told me. Are you driving? It sounds like you have me on speaker."

"Yeah I am. I came here because of my efforts to stop the artifact trade. There's been a definite spike in interest in in relics of mystical power or spiritual significance and just like the archeological black market, I aim to make damn sure those more interested in looting instead of preservation and study are not to be rewarded for bad behavior. The prime buyer out here is Pentex."

Doc sighed. "Those bastards, huh? They're maybe the only organization I've come to loathe more than the Sabbat."

"Yeah, well, some contacts of Alex's sort sent me. The shapechangers might not work well with humans, but they'll take all the information I care to pass them. So, any shady bullshit I uncover while working to preserve history goes up the garou chain. And Doc, I'm on to some big ones. With the increase in the artifact trade, I've had a major chance to follow leads and cross reference the information. I've found some of Pentex's main storehouses for mystical objects."

"Now that _is_ useful. What country are you in? I'll work on getting you a flight."

"Canada."

"Marshall, I know you're an archaeologist, not a geographer, but Canada is not in the Middle East," Spectre chided.

"Yeah, I was getting to that, so while watching one of these storehouse, I noticed they were preparing for a major high security move. They were taking a relic out of it rather than putting it in for storage. It was happening right then, no time to tip off some shapechangers and hope they took an interest so, I stowed away on their plane to find out where it was going."

"That is the absolute dumbest thing I have ever heard and I've heard Alex's plans! What were you thinking? You went in with no back up and no plan to an enemy camp. And not just any enemy camp, but an unscouted Pentex camp. That's about as bone headed a move as you get," Spectre noted dryly.

"Yeah, I knew you'd say that, but I'm not about to apologize. This relic they were moving was impressive. It's a metallic cube made of an unknown metal. The inscriptions on its faces are simple instructions limiting its use to the Chosen. It says only the Exalted have the authority to deal with the creature within: a Demon of the Second Circle. One of the languages on the cube is the same writing on some of the most ancient scrolls known; the ones about the times before and the origin of the Hunters. The other is the Elder Tongue, the original language that only the oldest of spirits know. It's called Old Realm, Doc. I just know. It's memories from the Exaltation. It's the concept of language first formed into the written word by the fabricators of the universe itself."

"Well, I'll be damned, that _is_ impressive," Spectre admitted.

"Yeah, well, I found out it also calls up a spirit who measures a seven on the ten point entity scale the Mages use. It is bound to come at the call of the Chosen who hold the box and perform whatever services they wish. She's primarily a crafter. Her specialities are metals, but more that that she's a teacher. She teaches ancient and magical metallurgy. This thing was locked up to serve as a teaching tool to train new Chosen how to produce armaments. Pentex found how to beckon her without having the right powers and bribed her into service, but the prices she demands always limited her use. I needed to know what was going on. What was so all fired important they needed her help and were willing to pay?"

"I can see why you followed them," Spectre admitted.

"They brought it to Canada. There is some huge relic up here at a Pentex research site but it's out of reach now some sort of attack happened most likely it will get scooped up by someone else. I have the cube however and need to get it to where it can be safely studied. You know mages who have some impressive lab space so I was thinking..."

"Yeah, it's likely best to bring it here. Here's the thing, though. You're going to need to cross the Canadian border on your own. You don't even need a passport, just your driver's license."

"Well, there's also the problem of I'm in a stolen car. Used to belong to the director of the Pentex facility I got the cube from," Marshall said.

"Hold on, I'm checking the police records." The Doc swiveled in his chair to another nearby computer. Nothing had shown up yet. "You're clear so far. Get across the border, ditch the car and I'll wire you some money and a plane ticket. Looks like the nearest place with a suitable airport is going to be Minot, North Dakota. Catch that flight. It'll bring you here."

"Oh, Spectre, one other thing. This box has drawn some attention. There was some pyre flame wielding madman after it. He lost it when a complete idiot shot it out of his hands."

"Wait, someone _shot_ the only source of control for a tier seven spiritual entity?" Spectre asked, dumbfounded.

Blew it right across the room. She was glowing, so she's likely like me. Some Miskatonic jerks were there too. One of them was also like me. This box wants to be in Exalted hands. I think it's calling someone to take control of this demon. The Miskatonic guy was insisting I give it to him. You know how they are; everything has to be locked away in a cave or destroyed. He used some impressive magic to turn himself into metal and grow foot long claws. He was waving them threateningly at me, so I shot him in the legs and ran."

"Was he bleeding?" Spectre asked, trying to picture the damage. Leg shots were normally pretty safe. Marshall also normally used safety rounds made to deform rather than penetrate. He told the Doc one time that if he was around valuable objects, he didn't want blow throughs and ricochets to damage anything.

"Nah, I didn't shoot anywhere near his arteries and it didn't even break the skin. From the way he girly screamed, I'm pretty sure he's just badly bruised. I think I lost them all, but if not, it could draw some heat," Marshall admitted.

"You know, this is really bad timing, Marshall. Kai Silbern's group still owes us some favors, but his wife is about due; ready to pop from the way I hear. She's fine, but he's a nervous wreck. Must be a Silbern trait. Alex is the same way. Every time Heather goes into labor, she's fine and he goes to pieces. I'll try to find some back up, but my main advice is keep running. Get your feet on the ground here in New Orleans and you'll be fine. Our defenses are pretty good, I doubt even Pentex would try to break through them."

"Alright, I'm going to end this call and focus on getting there," and with that Marshall hung up.

Spectre picked up his phone again and after a moment's debate decided he'd best make a call.

"Campeggio, Schmidt and Lewiston. Edmond Campeggio's office," a crisp female voice said.

"This is Dr. Remington Spectre. Tell Ed I need to talk to him ASAP."

The kid was in the center of most of this Exalted business. He might know what to do with two new rouge Exalts. He might be able to swing that crazy Russian hitman into Marshall's path as backup as well.

* * *

Minot, North Dakota

* * *

"Look there is the car," Said Professor Beeman as he steered the RV into a parking lot. "I'm pulling over. We will have to find where he is from here."

Agam nodded. It was indeed the stolen car. He unbuckled his safety restraint and moved into the back to awaken Bree. She was laying in the floor with the still canine form of the werewolf sleeping next to her. She had finally persuaded the stubborn being to eat the dog food she purchased.

Agam reached to touch Bree's shoulder. A canine growl stopped him short. Despite appearing to be asleep, the creature's icy blue eyes were not closed. They trained on him and its lips were slowly raising as the volume of its growl rose.

Bree's eyes opened. "Are we there... hey, no, hush," she told the canine.

"We are in the city of Minot. The car is here on the outskirts of town. It's been abandoned. From here we will have to use magic to try to find the culprit," Singh explained.

"Or detective work. Let's look at the car. Hell, this guy's got a nose on him. Maybe he can sniff him out," Bree suggested. She had more faith in detective work than she had magic.

Bree examined the car but found nothing obvious. The wolf, however, started leading them away. "We are headed back to the north, toward the airport," Agam said.

"Why would he pass the airport only to double back on foot?" Beeman asked.

"Because he needed to pick up something. There is a Wal-Mart up ahead. It is a good place to get a quick, cheap change of clothes as well as supplies for a trip. He could even pick up money if he has had an accomplice wire it to him," Bree explained.

The store was not busy, but it seemed the mixture of smells in the parking lot had the canine somewhat confused. It made several circles while sniffing about in a determined fashion.

"Singh, my friend, can you sense the evil of the box?" Beeman asked.

"This close the direction is not obvious. We're inside its miasmic aura of wickedness," Singh said with a frown.

"Relax. Police dogs are good at finding people and they don't have an intelligent mind behind them. He'll find our man," Bree assured them, looking at the wolf.

"I hope so. I fear if not we may lose him we have little else to indicate his location." Beeman lamented.

Suddenly, a large fireball erupted from the parking lot of a nearby pizza place further north. The stunned trackers looked at each other in shock and then took off running for the conflagration.

* * *

Gunshots echoed across the lot as Marshall dove from car to car for cover. The unaimed shots he fired were not meant to hit, only to discourage his adversary from continuing to launch fireballs at him. He didn't waste any time on wondering why he was being attacked. The Pentex jumpsuit his attacker wore made it plainly obvious.

It looked like he had a clear path back toward the Wal-Mart he'd just left. He broke into a dead run for the outdoor living entrance hoping to get inside. Marshall thought the Manifested would set off the fire alarms if she attacked him in there. Then, he could vanish into the resulting chaos. He saw something that made him skid to a halt. Coming across the parking lot in a run was the Sikh, the crazy gun woman, and an old man. They were headed right for him. He turned, perpendicular to their location and made his way toward a bank to his right. Maybe he could set off the bank alarm. That might give them pause. Then again, it might get him caught as well.

Bree's band poured on the speed. The Fire Aspect from the pizza place parking lot also rushed forward. Whoever these people were, they were ruining the plan!

Marshall turned, firing a shot at the Sikh's feet. Bree stopped to line up a shot into the gunman's arm. Before she could fire a lithe female dove over a car and touched Bree's neck. Electrical current coursed into her, stronger than any taser

"You idiots are messing up our capture operation. He was headed right toward my ambush! Back off or Talia will give you the same," the Fire Aspect shouted at Singh and Beeman.

There was no warning or preamble. Fangs sank into Talia's arm. Axe had gone unnoticed, but he had never left Bree's side. With a snarl, the wolf ripped deep into the meat of her arm shredding flesh till it hit bone.

Cheryl panicked. Talia was worth more than any capture mission. She turned from the chase to rush to aid her fellow Manifested. Talia was not fireproof, so she leapt into action with a dynamic kick into the canine's throat. The beast let go with a whimper. Ignoring the creature, Cheryl made it to Talia's side and held her arm. It looked as if the bone might have snapped.

An out of place sensation enveloped Cheryl's ankle. It felt like an oversized hand. She turned to see what had wrapped around her leg when her world flipped upside down as nine feet of towering muscle and fur shot up from the form of the fallen canine. The now massive, slavering muzzle snarled at her. She was held upside down by the ankle. "DIE," the monster bellowed in an almost unintelligible growl.

Bree slowly regained consciousness. Her attacker, the Air Aspect, was lying next to her, bleeding from a savage wound to the arm. Above her, the wolf had resumed his hybrid state. He had the Fire Aspect by the ankle and, with a snarl, started to use her like a club. He swung her down into nearby cars several times then into the pavement, into her friend, into the cars again and then the pavement one last time. He let out a howl of pure rage.

Close by Beeman and Singh had caught their original quarry and were literally wrestling with each other. The fugitive's pack fell out onto the asphalt. Among the possessions that spilled out was the box. Without a second thought, Bree rolled into a crouch and grabbed the object along with a nearby slip of paper.

The sound of sirens filled the air. The wolfman's arms wrapped around Bree and lifted her up before she could protest. With a lurch the werewolf rushed away, dashing through alleys and vaulting over fences. His steam gave out in a secluded alley. He slid to the ground, resuming his human form. Fortunately, his clothes returned.

"Hey,- hey you ok? What happened?" Bree asked, checking him.

"Cheap shotting little bitch got you in the back," he said

"Right, but you flipped out on me. We need to go back for Beeman and Singh," Bree argued.

"No. Police. They hadn't done anything. They'll go free. The Manifested would turn this on us. We'd all end up in jail. Werewolves don't do well in captivity. Too wild," he said in a staccato explanation.

"When you transformed you ripped the stitches up. They didn't have much time to heal are you bleeding?" Bree asked as she started to check.

"No. Hurts like a bitch," the wolf admitted.

"Then we have to get out of here. Since your human again, maybe you can tell me your name. I'm getting sort of tired of calling you wolfy," Bree said with a grin.

"Axe," the werewolf replied

"Well, nice to meet you, Axe. I'm Bree. Now we have to find some way of getting out of here before everyone figures out what happened to this box and more trouble shows up," Bree said as she examined the slip of paper she'd picked up with the box. As she read it, it downed on her what it was. A smile crossed her lips. "Lucky day. I think I know just the way. You can turn back into a wolf if you need to right?" She asked, a spark of inspiration in her eye.

* * *

Blocks away, Singh and Beeman had dashed off on foot. They had tried to follow the wolfman, but he was too fast. Neither of them were in great shape. Winded, both men had stopped. After catching their breath, they returned to their RV.

"Where will she go? She has the box. We were allies of the moment, but she has no true attachment to us," Beeman said.

"She desired to bring the cube to Manifested Services. She often spoke of them, attempting to sway us to her views. That is where we will find her," Singh reasoned.

"Then let us start now. As before, if we take turns driving, we can hope to stay ahead or even beat her there," Beeman proposed.

Singh nodded "Even if we are late we can speak to the Manifested and caution them to responsibility if they mean to hold of this artifact."

They quickly loaded into the RV and took off into the night.

A block away, a back a rental car eased into the street and started following behind the RV in a loose fashion. Marshall drove into the night determined to tail the pair.

Luckily there had been a rental place only a block away. Once the rubbernecking had died down, he was able to get a ride with the money Spectre had wired. He had lost his plane ticket, but without the box, he didn't have a reason to hurry to New Orleans.

These two had found him after he lost the box, so it stood to reason they had been tracking it, not him. He would follow these morons and make sure the two didn't make the box disappear down some rabbit hole. He also had to get it out of that insane gun wielding woman's hands.

* * *

Thank you all for reading and a double thanks to those providing feedback. The last chapter of this is finished and in editing and I'm hard at work on Christmas Calibration which wraps up the beginning setup. Pretty much everyone should be in that story if If you have a personal idea something you'd like to see feel free to PM me or include it in a reply. Can't' promise it will all in up used but if I can I will.


	4. Chapter 4

12 Hours Later

A Rental Car on California Highway 41

Going North From Fresno

* * *

They had not had a chance to talk on the plane. Bree managed to trade the ticket out for a different flight while checking in her 'dog'-Axe in his wolf form- as cargo. They had both taken the time to sleep. Once in Fresno, she'd rented a car, Axe turned back into his human form and was her somewhat silent company on the drive to MSI's compound.

Bree had quickly figured out how to get the taciturn wolf to talk. Her detective interviewing skills obviously came in handy. However, her new powers had granted her an intense understanding of others. Utilizing both allowed her to realize that, while not one to volunteer information, Axe would answer most any question presented him. In fact, his blunt guileless honesty had impressed her.

"You going to eat those fries?" Bree asked.

Axe shook his head.

"Is that a 'yes' or 'no?' I'm busy watching the road so I need you to vocalize these things," Bree said, childing the werewolf.

"No. The bacon burger was fine. I'm not wild about fries," Axe said.

"Cool. I'm still hungry. Too bad they suck when they get cold," Bree replied, helping herself to the remnants of the fries.

"Then why get them?"

"They come with the combo, so they're basically free," Bree explained.

"Then if you toss them you're getting your money's worth," Axe said.

"And If I eat them, I'm getting a bargain. I don't normally eat fast food, but I don't skimp when I do," Bree smiled.

And just like that, the conversation was over. They sat in silence for a moment and Bree was thinking of the next question to break the silence when, for the first time since she'd known him, Axe volunteered to speak first. "Kai doesn't like Mike. I won't be able to stay long."

"Can't say that I blame him. Your friend sounds like a terrible person," Bree said. What was she thinking! The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. It wasn't a way to gain the trust of someone who had just opened up no matter how right it was. But, once again, her enhanced intuition was urging her on. This didn't seem the _faux pas_ it would have been to her a year ago. Indeed it seemed the opposite.

"Mike's not that bad. He's just doesn't like playing by the 's also kind of self centered and sort of an asshole," Axe begrudgingly admitted.

"That is pretty much the description of a terrible person, Axe. He left those people there to die," Bree pointed out.

"He just sort of forgot about them. He gets really focused on his goals," Axe countered.

"He wanted to steal an object that controls demons and to get it was brandishing the magic of death he stole from an omnicidal deathcult. When you have to make that many excuses for someone, it's time to reevaluate your relationship and move on," Bree said

"Look, I can't expect you to understand. We've been together a long time. He's like family. You don't abandon family," Axe said firmly.

An angry retort was forming on Bree's lips before she stopped herself. She knew she was right but she didn't know how to get it through his head. She wanted to scream at him and frighten him with the horror stories of her time on the force and all the tragedy that ensued from those that had uttered the phrase "you don't abandon family", but she knew it wasn't enough. She knew it wouldn't work. Not on its own. So she reached inside for the words and the answer.

Her power was inside; always there, and easily visible to the mind's eye. It was almost like a game of the imagination. She didn't think anyone knew the power wielded by those like her was finite. It would come back over time, usually only a day, but it was finite. She could feel these pearls of power as part of her being, floating inside as little golden orbs of power that burned when she touched them. They focused her will as she shaped the power almost instinctively into a complex array to do what she needed. The more she grabbed, the more powerful her ability.

But there was a limit on that too. Sort of a maximum weight of orbs she could handle at once. She assumed one could handle more, but she didn't know how. But the more of these floating orbs she used, the more she lit up like a bonfire. She could, however do little things without drawing attention. A few of these motes here and there and not even the golden disk on her forehead would show up. And so she grabbed just a few, focusing her will and her knowledge and her life's experience. The entire process took only as long as a sigh. And so, without missing a beat, and bolstered by the righteous power within, Bree continued.

"Alright, I can tell this is upsetting you, so this is the last I'll say about it. One story and I'll let the subject go. Now, I could tell you about countless battered wives and grown children that are still trying to care for their abusive parents. I was a cop. I've seen it all, but I think you need to hear something more personal. I want to tell you about my great uncle Kevin. He had been a drinker when he was young but cleaned up when he married my great aunt. Everything was fine for a couple of decades. After she passed away, he crawled back in the bottle, but everyone felt sorry for him. They tried to just go on like nothing bad was happening. Kevin just got worse and worse until one year, at a family reunion, he slapped my mom's ass and insisted he had a bigger dick than my dad."

Axe blinked a few times. He wasn't a good enough conversationalist to know what to say.

"Anyhow, dad clocked him square in the jaw and laid him out. Then he took him home and tossed him in his own bed. After that, the long delayed family meeting on what to do about Kevin happened. We stopped inviting him to anything, loaning him money or bailing him out of jail; you know, all the little things we did trying to help him hold his life together. Thing is, it didn't destroy him. We'd been trying to support him while he healed, but he didn't want to heal. He'd stopped using us as a crutch to overcome his trouble. Instead, he turned our help into a safety net; one he felt perfectly fine lying in. He started getting better once we forced him to deal with his problems on his own," Bree explained.

Axe stared forward uncomfortably.

"Other people might have talked to you about how he's hurting you and how you need to move on for your own sake. But, if you look at your situation and compare it to what happened to Kevin, you're just as much hurting Mike as he's hurting you. Maybe you need to stop," Bree added.

"Maybe," Axe said.

* * *

Manifested Services Compound

* * *

"It's so pretty, papa!" Summer Rain exclaimed with delight. The little girl was looking at the video on the large television showing a snowy, picturesque town in eastern Austria. The little three and a half year old girl was dressed in her sky blue pajamas with snowflakes on them.

The father and daughter pair were in the den. Kai and Terra's home, while connected to the other Dragon Blooded's living quarters at MSI, was technically its own building. The shared nature of their lives made the 'separate but connected' nature of the architecture a necessity. It made sure that Kai and Terra had their own space, but that Kai was not kept apart from his other children.

The large, multi story building was spacious and well furnished as befitting the primary home of the two principal founders of MSI. Terra's taste ruled the majority of the house, however, Kai held sway in this particular room – it was his 'man cave.' As such, he chose to decorate the room, which was adjacent to he and Terra's bedroom, in an eclectic mix of traditional German and Neo-Pagan influences. It had a great stone fireplace complete with hearth and hardwood floors that were covered with soft fur rugs; one of which looked suspiciously like the hide of a very ugly werewolf. The walls were inlaid with wood that sported Nordic carvings featuring depictions of great heroes, gods, and intricate knotwork.

Similar decorations littered the room. There were chests of wood with similar carvings. Over the hearth itself was a massive wood carving of the Norse god Thor, locked in combat with his mortal enemy; the world serpent Jörmungandr.

In the corner of the room was an enormous Douglas fir tree. Kai had taken all of the children present in the compound on an extended day trip to the Sierras to another piece of land owned by the Dragon Blooded. They ventured forth to search for trees to cut down to use for Christmas. He had felled several to decorate the rest of the compound, but he and Summy had been decorating this one. It was past her bedtime, but Kai indulged her. He would help his other children that were present at the compound decorate other trees tomorrow. He had taken the opportunity to show Summy a program about Austria that featured his home that happened to be on the local public television station.

"Yes, little Summy. Innsbruck is a very beautiful place at Christmas time. We will have a great time this holiday. This was where your papa was born, little one," Kai said. He was anxiously looking forward to taking his eldest child to Europe for the first time.

"Are we going to be in your old house?" Summer Rain asked.

"No. Your _Oma_ sold that house, but we will be somewhere even better. Great uncle Otto's house, which he left to me when he died," Kai explained.

"Is _Oma_ going to be there?" Summy asked.

"No, sweetling, she moved, but your _Urgroßmutter_ lives not far away and we will visit her for six hours. Which is about as much time as your papa can stand being around _his_ Oma," he said with a strained smile.

"Do we _have_ to take mama?" Summer Rain asked suddenly.

"Little one, I know you do not think your mama is much fun to play with right now. I know you think she is fat, but her belly is very big because she has babies inside her. They are your brothers and sisters. The reason her belly is so big is because they are coming very soon and they are big! Like your papa and like you!" He poked the child's nose, but her stony faced frown did not melt as it usually did. Kai tried a different tactic. "Do not worry! Your mama will be fine. She will be giving birth any day now. Our kind recover very quickly from childbirth. We will be able to bring the babies with us. It will be their first Christmas," he explained.

Summer Rain's frown deepened and she crossed her arms. She looked suddenly as if her father has told her Christmas had been canceled. "I hate the babies," she muttered to herself.

Kai raised an eyebrow. This was odd. Summy didn't mind her half brothers and sisters. Sebastian was her best friend. She loved to play with him. Could the thought of having full siblings disturb her that much?

Before Kai could prod further, the door opened and Angelina leaned in. Kai stood up and crossed the room. The look on Angel's face was all business.

Summy's German was her best language, but the adults were talking very quietly and quickly. It was too hard to follow their conversation. They said something about a stupid dog, a police woman and a demon.

Kai turned back to his daughter. "I am sorry little one. Some business has come up. Come! I will put on the _Brave_ DVD and you can watch little Scottish girl shoot arrows at things."

"But papa..." Summy started.

"Now, now. No pouting, little one. Papa will be back soon," Kai said as he changed the channel from the Satellite TV to the DVD player and put in the movie. He patted Summer Rain on the head and headed out with Angelina.

Summer Rain waited for a minute or two and then slowly crept out the door. The movie adventures forgotten, she slowly made her way down the hall, darting from one door frame to the other as she made her way back toward the other Dragon Blooded apartments. She had a good idea where her father was going. As such, she took a circuitous route, around near the kitchens. She ended up peeking near the front door of the building where her half brothers and sisters and some of the other Dragon Blooded ladies lived. She saw at the end of the hall her mama and her papa.

Papa was so much bigger than everyone in the room. It made Summy happy that she had such a big, strong papa. He had his arm around mama who was dressed in her work clothes: a funny green suit that she called 'scrubs.' They looked like pajamas to Summy. Mama had her long hair held back in a high ponytail with a bandana. She was resting both her hands on her middle in an almost protective manner. Even though she was big and fat with babies in her now very big tummy, Summy still thought her mama was pretty.

Miss Valentina and Miss Angel stood beside mama and papa. They were dressed in the clothes that Papa wore when he went out to fight. Miss Angel had a gun on her side. They both looked angry. They were talking to a tall, red headed woman and a long haired man in old dirty clothes. The woman was pretty, but not as pretty as mama, Summy decided. The long haired man looked like he didn't want to be there. She thought about trying to move closer before a familiar voice made her jump.

"Whatcha doin?" Summy turned her head sharply nearly jumping out of her skin. It was Bastian. He had come from the kitchens. He had a piece of the Thanksgiving turkey in his mouth and another baggie of meat in his other hand. The enormous son of Kai and Valentina, who favored Kai right down to the sandy marble skin and the platinum white hair, had come up behind her.

Summy wrinkled her brow. Her mama was not the only one getting fat these days. Bastian had always been a big boy, but he was getting much bigger as of late...especially in the middle. He had recently had a growth spurt and he looked to be gearing up for another with a very large weight gain. He was also wearing his pajamas. They were Christmas themed with reindeer and Santa Claus on them. They were new, but they were already too small for him. The sleeves and legs were too short and his big belly was poking out from under the hem of his top.

Summy couldn't believe him! He had eaten too much at dinner (four helpings!) and he was eating again! Summy thought he was getting too fat. However, what really bothered Summy was that he was taller than she was now. He was six months younger than her! She was oldest, she should be the biggest!

"SHHH! Bastian! Be quiet! I'm watching papa," she hissed.

"Should you be spying on papa?" Her half brother asked. He popped another piece of turkey in his mouth and swallowed.

"Should _you_ be sneaking _more_ food?" You're already too fat! You eat too much!" She poked his big swollen belly for emphasis. It was hard! He'd obviously been eating even more in the kitchen. He was such a piggy.

Unfortunately, to Summy's surprise, as she poked him, Bastian burped very loudly. He smiled (he knew it grossed Summy out) and then cringed along with his sister when he realized it might attract attention. Surely the adults had heard.

There was a brief pause as both children tried to hide themselves in the doorway. Neither one of them moved, although Summy could hear Bastian's fat belly rumbling. She shot him another dirty look before she peeked around the edge of the door again. The adults were still talking.

Bastian glared back at her. Before he could reply, Summy held up her hand. She strained to listen to what the adults were saying. The woman was handing a metal box to Kai. Summy made out the English words 'demon' and 'prison' above all the others.

"I wonder what's in there," Bastian said. "Do you think it's chocolate?" he asked, suddenly excited.

Summy tuned to look at him. She gave him a withering stare. She saw Santa Claus on his pajamas. That's when she knew what it had to be. "SHH! It's the demon," she said, silencing her half brother.

"What demon?" Bastian asked.

"Santa's prisoner, silly! It's the Krampus! Remember Papa's story!" Summy rolled her eyes. Bastian could be so dumb. He always seemed to have such trouble following what was going on!

* * *

Hours Later

* * *

Bree had been waiting in the very conference room Terra had originally briefed her before she left for Canada. She had thus far managed to confirm that Warren Hardy was dead. The Canadian government had taken over the disaster area and forced both Endron and the protesters away. At least neither side would be able to do much during their investigation.

Kai and Terra had been very accommodating. They had already called in experts to help study the artifact and demon locked inside. They also were going to have some of their own researchers, with a talent for deciphering languages on very little information, to translate the cube. They had promised all information would be shared.

The door opened and in walked Edmond Campeggio. Campeggio was dressed in an outrageously expensive suit with impeccably matching shoes, tie and watch. His dark black hair, so dark it looked to have an almost deep blue hue at times, shone in the light. His eyes were alert and he met Bree with an easy, winning smile. "Hello there, sorry to keep you waiting. Kai and Terra would have come to visit you, but not very long after you arrived, Terra went into labor. Apparently 'real' labor, not pre-labor. At least according to one of the other Dragon Blooded. So, I came to talk to you alone for now," he said with a smile.

Bree gave Campeggio a withering look and rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms and looked at the wall.

"Have I done something to offend you?" Campeggio asked, the smile dying on his lips.

"Only by your reputation. I have great sympathy for what the Dragon Blooded have been through, but I have little regard to defense attorneys who showboat. You may have been helpful to the Dragon Blooded, but you're too slick. Like an upjumped ambulance chaser. You should have faced charges for some of the stunts you pulled," Bree said, trying to keep her voice cold and professional.

"I'm sorry you see it that way. I hold the law in high regard. I only break it when I must. When others sink so low I have to counter them," Edmond explained

Bree sneered. "If you're willing to abandon your principles when your enemy does, do you really believe in them?"

"Were you or were you not breaking and entering on Endron property? Going there for the express purpose of exacting revenge on someone who wronged you? Did you flee the scene of a disastrous sabotage and an assault crime to get here? Come here, in fact, with the known accomplice of several crimes including the same sabotage and assault? Carrying with you stolen property?" Campeggio asked. "Exactly which law enforcement agency have you reported all of these incidents to?"

"I'm not a lawyer and I'm not going to argue with you. It would be a fool's errand. You twist everything to suit you and you alone. It's what you're best at. My gut tells me you play too fast and loose with the rules and I don't care how you twist language to try and make it look okay. There's a selfishness in you I can't abide. It's written all over that thirty thousand dollar suit you're wearing," Bree said.

"Forty thousand, actually, not including the watch and shoes," Campeggio said glibly, trying to defuse the situation with humor.

Bree stared icily as the joke landed with an almost audible thud.

"Alright, well, if you're not willing to be reasonable, that's fine too. I've made it my personal mission to try to get as many of us as possible working together. We need to find our place and reason for being in this world. One thing I've found is that some of us are drawn to one another. Some of us worked closely with groups of our own or even other Exalted."

"Well, I don't feel drawn to you in the slightest, thank God," Bree said caustically.

Campeggio looked at Bree with a frown and raised eyebrow. The 'you're better than that' look was not lost on her and Edmond gave the conversation a moment for the embarrassment to set in before continuing.

"Perhaps not, but from your anima, we think you might respond to some others I've met. In the ancient days, they were the Guardians of Creation. One of them, the Dawn Caste, is here. The other is Senator Immanuel Waters of Texas. There are others. You're the last of their circle. They've authorized me to share their contact information. If you feel you can't get along with me, perhaps you can with them," Edmond offered.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, but you just rub me the wrong way and I don't feel it's wise to pretend you don't," Bree said in a slightly more amiable tone. She was relieved the lawyer wasn't going to badger her.

"That's fine. I have some people to call. I need to let them know what's going on. I need to find that Sikh fellow as well. From what you've said, he's one of my circle," Edmond explained, taking his leave.

* * *

Outside

* * *

Beeman and Singh were well away from the compound. It was a sprawling complex with wide, elegantly mowed lawns and low manicured hedges surrounded by a fence. Beeman was using Bree's impressive telephoto camera to observe the building. Agam was holding some bandages and focusing.

"Is she in there?" Beeman asked.

"I cannot be sure, but I know the werewolf is there. His blood is on these bandages. It is too strong a link to be fooled," Singh said.

Beeman nodded and returned to his observations. They had arrived at least eight hours behind Bree with the RV was running on fumes. The two had found a secluded spot to observe the MSI compound. Both had felt powerful wards about it. Despite their claim to be Psionic, the Manifested obviously knew the truth and had magically warded their land. No doubt the nearby mystics at PSI had helped.

Both had been gathering information. They were quite unwilling to rush in. They knew such a situation would take careful planning and, most probably, delicate diplomacy.

Beeman gripped the camera tightly and leaned forward slightly, as if straining to see. He then put it down and rubbed his eyes in disbelief before he handed it to Singh.

"What do you wish for me to see, my friend?" Agam asked

No answer was needed. It was plain to see through the camera's high powered lens. A familiar form, _sans_ the Pentex jumpsuit, was dashing from bush to tree to bush following what little cover the grounds provided while closing in on the MSI building.

"What does that idiot think he will accomplish? Does he not know they have closed circuit cameras watching every direction? The grounds were clearly made flat and open for a reason. He has too little cover. This is foolishness!" Agam lamented.

The man rushed to one of the side doors and leapt to the side, directly under one of the windows. From his movements, he looked to be tracing the outside looking for contacts. He was actually trying to defeat the security on the windows. Suddenly, the door next to him sprung open and Kai Silbern's massive arm shot out grabbing the would be infiltrator by the back of the neck and hauling him physically into the compound.

"My word. That was unexpected," Agam said.

"But about the best he could hope for," came a reply

"True. Racing in with no plan was not smart," Beeman added.

Both men continued to look at the building for a few seconds before Agam gazed at Beeman questioningly and Beeman gazed back equally perplexed. Both men turned in unison to see a lanky man in nondescript clothings standing just behind them.

"Good day?" Agam asked.

"Good night," the stranger replied as his hands shot out and both men felt the painful buzz of a stun gun.

* * *

Excavation Under the Pentex Facility

* * *

Claus Rayner eyed the visible portion of the massive brass artifact. There was still a large portion of it buried under the earth and rubble. Fortunately, it had not been damaged. Beside him the Director of North America, Harold Adams, was eyeing the project in dismay.

"It will take us months to get this thing out. Moving it will be a logistical nightmare," Harold lamented.

"Oh, I doubt that Harold. Go back up and tell the men topside that there might be an after shock. Nothing to be alarmed about," the Senior Director said.

Harold had waited a long time to be promoted to the ranks of the Directors and when Claus was promoted after the Manifested fiasco, it had looked like those dreams had finally come true. However, it was hard to be his own man with his boss continually breathing down his neck. Even though Rayner held sway over all the regular Directorships on the planet, he stayed, for the most part, parked right here in North America looking over Harold's shoulder; micromanaging everything.

When interested parties on Autochthon wished to have more eyes on the old bastard, Harold had leapt at the chance. The only times Rayner was far out of sight was when he was doing whatever it is he did in that Antarctic hole he maintained - a place where Adams had virtually no chance to keep tabs on him.

Once he was upstairs, Harold pulled out his phone and activated the nanoscale audio visual receiver he had placed on the rock wall. It was just a dot, a speck amidst the veins of stone. He hidden the device before Rayner had arrived.

He saw Claus on his pad communicating with someone. From the voice it was John Dugan

"I think everything is ready here, sir. If you are sure about this we can proceed," said Dugan's voice.

"Very much so, John, tell Adam to start," Claus replied.

Harold was quite surprised when he saw a giant pair of arms shoot up out of the earth on either side of what could be seen of the brass relic. They sank back into the earth as if it was water. Then the artifact started to sink as well as if it was being pulled down under a lake. As it sank the earth began to shake and slide down to fill the now apparently empty space. It wasn't being literally pulled down it, was being transported via some earth based teleportation to another location. With John being involved, it stood to reason it was being squirrelled away in Antarctica.

"He has it. It's emerging into the store room now, sir. Christ, it's big," said Dugan's voice again from the pad.

"Indeed! Once it's moved, let Adam rest. We shouldn't have any trouble translating it after all the samples of this elder tongue we've seen on Autochthon. Boot up the files and get to work. I'll be there as soon as I can see to things here," Claus said jovially.

"Right, we'll try to have a translation and an introductory analysis when you get here," said John's voice.

Harold signaled to his spy device to melt down as he hurried away.

* * *

MSI Compound

Staff Meeting Room

* * *

Edmond Campeggio sat at the head of the table. He had positioned himself at the end of the table furthest from the door. He waited patiently on his guests.

Agam Singh and Marshall Thompson entered the room eyeing each other suspiciously. Jonathan Cole followed after them. The first two men sat on opposite sides of the table, flanking each side of Campeggio. Cole, meanwhile, chose to stand. He leaned back against the wall, positioning himself in the corner where he could see the entire room. He was the only man visibly armed. The four men eyed each other for a brief moment before Agam Singh broke the tension.

"I must protest this captivity! I also protest that my associate, Professor Charles Beeman, is not here," he said.

The lawyer folded his hands in front of him on the desk and sized the Sikh up for a moment with a piercing stare before he spoke. "Let me preface my answer with a question. Did you happen to notice the Wood-type Manifested woman of Hispanic origin who brought you into that hallway where you meet Jon and Marshall? Lean, on the tall side, keeps her hair in a long braid in the back?"

"The guard was a beautiful woman, but I will not be distracted by such things," Agam answered piously, somewhat misinterpreting Campeggio's point.

The lawyer began again. "When Kai first met her, she was a prisoner of vampire death cultists and fleshwarpers in Mexico City. They'd fused her legs into a solid beam, dislocated her arms and connected them to each other as well as her spine between the shoulder blades, reshaping them into wings. They removed all her hair and warped and molded her flesh into the shape of robes and a hood mimicking a cowled angel. The rest of her arm flesh, now devoid of bones but supported by cartilage, was molded into long, robe-like sleeves. They were made to appear folded before her as if in prayer. They called her a work of art. They dubbed her the 'Angel of Flesh.' For weeks they found it fun to mock her Catholic faith by performing profane rites in front of her and begging her, as if she was a holy icon of a saint, to intercede on their behalf. She endured it all and managed, with time, to regain sanity."

"My word," Agam said, aghast. Across from him, Thompson looked similarly appalled.

"Now, if you are willing to make Professor Beeman a target for such people, by all means, share whatever information you gain here with him. But I will not have that on my conscience," Edmond said with finality.

"I accept your arguments, sir. What is the purpose of this meeting?" Agam asked in a more subdued tone.

"I think a demonstration would be more enlightening than words. Mr. Thompson, show us your anima," Edmond ordered.

Marshall tensed for a moment. "It appears I'm not in a position to say no," the archeologist said with resignation.

He focused for a moment and light rose from his body, growing ever brighter by the second. It was as full of color as a spectacular sunset with hues and shades of pink, purple, red and blue. They formed into a detailed image a mighty dragon, curled about a carefully organized horde: a trove of cultural relics, books and scrolls.

"It is as if I have seen this before!" Agam said in wonder. His own draconic anima rose and seemed excited to see the other.

Edmond ignited his own anima; his sun eyed starfield dragon rose to cavort with the others. Jon's anima appeared last. His dragon, usually hidden among the 'clouds' of his anima, would occasionally peek out every so often to slyly observe its surroundings. However, even his normally taciturn anima began to swirl faster as it joined in the jubilation of the others.

"Gentlemen; four-fifths of the Celestial Dragons are now united and we are not alone. The entire Guardians of Creation circle now knows of each other. The Sidereal assure me by early next year at the lastest, our Dawn Caste will join us," Edmond explained.

The mute 'jubilation' of each of the men's totemic auras was not mirrored on their faces, however. "Wait! We're supposed to work together? You want _me_ to work with a man who suppresses history?!" Marshall balked, looking at Singh with disgust.

"You! You have no right to complain! You shot me in the legs!" Agam protested fiercely.

"You were waving six inch claws of brass in my face," Marshall countered.

"If he shot you in the legs, he didn't intend to kill you," Jon added unhelpfully.

Edmond slammed his hand down on the desk, causing the water pitcher to wobble. "Listen to yourselves! You are arguing over petty details. Your paths are not that far apart. Neither of you would allow free access to that demon!" He pointed to Singh. "You seek learning and enlightenment." He then turned to Thompson. "He seeks the preservation knowledge and the understanding of true history. I will not have our circle at war with itself. We know there are terrible enemies coming; enemies of the entire human race! We must have unity!" Edmond implored the bickering scholars.

"Maybe, in the heat of the moment, we both made some poor choices," Marshall admitted reluctantly. He still didn't look particularly moved.

"Your attempt to sneak in here was a poor choice. Even the near eight foot tall Austrian Loony was able to find you and he can't even see his own three year old kids hiding from him down a hall ten feet away. Not even the big fat one sneaking food for the second time," Jon said, smirking.

Marshall seemed ready to reply but Campeggio interrupted. "Wait, you're watching the Dragon Blooded's kids? Isn't that a little paranoid?" He looked mildly concerned.

Cole shrugged. "Someone has to, besides, they're funny. The bossy one was better at sneaking to spy on her father than Marshall and thought the demon in the box was the Krampus."

"Well...stop it," Campeggio said simply. Cole only shrugged again in response.

Agam returned the conversation to the topic at hand. "I am not accustomed to combat. Perhaps reason gave way to fear and a lapse of judgement on my part. I had not considered how threatening my actions would appear to one looking from the other side. I am willing to forgive and move ahead."

"Good. We have a world to protect and we need to start planning. In the days of yore we were the Circle known for coordinating with the Dragon Blooded. What we do will be key to the future," Campeggio said.

The animas died down as the four circlemates began to rekindle a relationship their souls knew countless millennia ago.

* * *

18 Hours Later

MSI Central Plaza

Reception Hall Entrance

* * *

MSI was loosely constructed around a paved plaza that encircled a green lawn with a fountain in the center. The various laboratories and research offices were connected by this plaza as well as various paved cart trails that eventually led to the adjoining PSI Compound. It was very late afternoon and the sun was glinting off the white and glass buildings that surrounded the plaza. Cheryl and Talia drove their rental car around the deserted cul-de-sac. It was still the holiday weekend. Most of the employees were nowhere to be found. The duo exited the car and approached the stairs that led up large double doors of MSI's reception center. However, before the pair could even touch the doors, they flung open. Kai Silbern's hulking, looming form glared at them both. For a brief moment, there was only silence, broken only by the distant, playful lapping of the plaza fountain behind the two women.

"You have come at an incredibly bad time. My wife has just given birth to four beautiful babies; two boys and two girls. I should be with her and them, not here dealing with you. If you have any kind of sense you will leave. Now!" Kai snarled imperiously.

"We can't go back to our employer empty handed, Mr. Silbern! Turn over the box to us and no one has to be hurt. It's tracers died when it came on your property, but there can be no doubt where it was taken. It's Pentex property," Talia replied.

Kai sneered. "Pentex? You mean the Pentex that created the bullet that almost killed me? The bullet that is now a sculpture encased in my wife's office? Pentex has no rights to anything here. The box could be here or it could be gone. It could still exist or it could have been destroyed. I do not like things being brought here that would put my family at risk. As you know, we Manifested have many ways of destroying things that are dangerous to our families."

"Family? You mean your harem," Cheryl spat.

Kai pointed up, behind the two women. Across the plaza on the roof of the building opposite of where the pair now stood, there was a slight gleam just above the roofline in the fading afternoon light. "I would be careful of your words and how you refer to the others here. They are listening and Angelina does not miss."

"We don't kill each other, Mr. Silbern. You hold that rule closer than most. Please don't insult us by making empty threats," Talia answered calmly.

Kai looked at the Arabian Air Aspect and shook his head."Kill? Who said Angel would kill you? You might not have been here for the unpleasantness of the American camps, but you should have taken the time to speak to some who have. Even Cheryl will tell you it is quite surprising what the one of our kind can survive. Angel knows more than almost any of us. She was a flesh warper's toy."

"Don't threaten me!" Cheryl spat again.

"No threats? Fine. I will make you a promise, then," Kai said as he reached behind him and produced his massive hammer. "How about this: If you disturb the peace of my home on the day of my children's birth, I will make your legs bend in ways that are almost as unnatural as it is painful."

"You think you can scare us?" Talia asked.

"I hope you are smart enough to be scared, yes. You are both weak. You, Talia, are weak of mind. Pentex is comfortable and familiar. You ignore its rot and pick from the scraps they feed you. While Cheryl here is covering a lifetime of abuse with anger. That makes her emotionally weak. She lashes out at everything and everyone. I would find you both contemptible if you were not just so damn sad. I pity you both, but pity will not stay my hand if you endanger my family."

"Please. You have to give us something. Anything," Talia pleaded while Cheryl stood rooted next to her in a mute fury.

Kai looked back behind himself at figures neither visiting Dragon Blooded could see. His eyes locked in non-verbal communication with Axe. He had no ill will for the wolf, but he knew what had to be done. Axe shook his head 'no' in a silent plea. Bree, conversely, gave him a subtle nod, picking up on Kai's thoughts

Turning back, Kai nodded to the women. "Fine, but only so you will leave. You know of the archeologist Marshall Thompson's involvement in this affair, but he is only a minor player. He is a scavenger feasting off someone else's kill. He is not the sort to mastermind something this large. This is the work of the mercenary Michael, a Hermetic Mage of the DeAngelo bloodline. I cannot tell you who hired him, but I do know it was not any of the werewolves I know. However, the Shadowlords would be suspect. That is all I can tell you. Now, begone or there will be violence between us."

Talia eyed Cheryl pleadingly and Cheryl relented. "Fine," she said as she spun on her heels and turned to leave. Talia bowed slightly only to have Kai slam the doors in her face. She quickly rejoined her retreating comrade and made for their car and the drive off of MSI property.

After Kai closed the door, Axe let out a long sigh and turned to Bree. "Can I bum a ride? I know Mike's close, I can feel him out there. I need to warn him about this."

"Why, Axe? He endangered all the people working there, abandoned Pentex's hostages to die. He's a terrible man. You owe him nothing," she argued.

"Maybe. I don't think he's at 'Uncle Kevin's' point yet, though," Axe said quietly.

"I really doubt that, Axe. It's your life. I can't tell you how to live it, but if you ever leave him, you have a place to go. I won't turn you out. Your lack of human world skills is no longer an excuse you can use to justify your own actions. I'll help you," Bree said, fishing her keys out of her pocket.

Kai looked at them both. He put his enormous hand on Bree's shoulder. "No. I would not leave yet. That contemptible pair might see you. You will stay. Come, we will feast and chase away this sadness you feel. We have reason to celebrate. Come, see the new life Terra and I have wrestled into this world and then we will eat. Then you can go back to the dreary path you have chosen."

He placed both of his massive arms around the pair's shoulders and guided them back toward the infirmary where his newborn children awaited him.

* * *

Technocratic Research and Storage: Facility Eight

Mount Erebus, Antarctica

* * *

Claus walked into the storage room and observed the massive bronze relic. The lid had been removed and was levitating near the ceiling. A highly acrid scent filled the air. Heading for a catwalk he strode up to John Dugan. Now that he was higher up, he could see the brass monstrosity was a pool containing an emerald green liquid.

"What have you got on this thing so far John?" Claus asked.

"It holds about twenty two thousand liters of the most powerful acid ever recorded. It doesn't just dissolve matter it dissolved _ideas_. We're not even quite sure how that works, but as near as we can theorize, it compacts the reality of an object stripping away all but its core features leaving something refined into a singular purpose. The objects so treated are nearly as resonant as the Six Noble Materials we recovered from Autochthon and that have started showing up in limited quantities here on Earth."

"I take it the container was already treated so the acid does it no further damage? Can Noble Materials contain it?"

"We tried, they do, but it leaves an odd coating on them almost like a verdigris. I want to conduct some tests to see the long term effects as well as if the change can be undone," Dugan answered.

"Very interesting," Claus mused.

"Here is the more interesting thing; we removed one hundred liters for testing. The fractional dip in level was almost instantly replaced. Through testing and by making precise measurements then doing a few additional removals, I estimate it can restore a tenth of its contents per day."

"That makes it far more useful. What do the inscriptions tell us?"

"Instructions for its use in addition to its purpose. It states that the fallen Creators of the Universe, who are now its enemies, stole the Exaltations of fifty of the 'Heroes of the Invincible Sun' and corrupted them. They, however, turned on their Masters and joined the ranks of heroes again. This device, once a crucible for making weapons for the demon armies, can now be used for the world's defense. It gives instructions for the refinement of iron, brass, bronze and other materials into a more powerful form. Suggestions for substitution of these elements for the 'Five Magical Metals,' which is likely a reference to the Six Noble Materials. I am not sure which one they are leaving out. Last, but not least, it explains how to melt down spirits into a liquid form that can be used for a variety of purposes."

"So, it's meant to supply the materials to build an army. An army of beings able to use resonant materials," Claus said, a shark like smile spread across his face.

"Sir, I take it Adam knew where it was through his mastery and affinity for things buried in the Earth? That would be the most likely place you learned of its location."

"Yes, he wasn't sure what it was, but once he told me of its existence, probabilistics revealed a synchronicity. Normally I don't trust even very scientific divination of the future, but my instincts told me this time to risk it. A careful risk mind you, thus the deniable assets."

"It certainly will help relieve some of our materials shortage problems."

"So it will. However, our first task is experimentation. I want to upgrade its formulas. Science has provided alloys and compounds undreamed off in the epoch this thing was created. Use temporal dilation if you have to I want these tests finished quickly so production can begin."

Dugan nodded. "How about we start with steel alloys, glass, plastics, rubber petroleum fuels, lubricants explosives and nuclear materials?"

"All good suggestions. Start with beryllium bronze. We can use it for the skeletal structure we are going to make for Adam. Bit of a reward for him and it already has bronze foundation. The recipes should require only a modicum of reworking. Let's get the quicker work out of the way first. Bronze is still used in applications today, so we might as well knock out those alloys before proceeding down your list."

"Yes sir. It's a lot of work but we'll get on it," Dugan said, turning to get to work, but the old man's voice pulled him back.

"John. You're not going to like hearing this but start using the Jadeborn who've completed their primary training as technicians to speed this up. We're too pressed for man power to leave them idle."

"Actually, sir, I don't think I mind that much. We already trust them to use and maintain their weapons. Trusting them in the design and testing of such weapons isn't that big of a stretch and shortens the information chain from user feedback to design. I think we can trust, but verify."

"Good to see your using your head. I'm going to check on a few things. We'll meet back for dinner later to review and formulate all the plans."

Dugan nodded and headed off. Claus removed an old pocket watch from his suit and took a look at its back. His tumb traced its Masonic Emblems. The Order had long tossed aside religion for atheist tenants. However, when they needed a respite from the world they had discovered Autochthon. When the Order had needed a link to the past he'd found Adam. When they needed soldiers they found the Jadeborn. The synchronicities seemed to lead to a divine providence.

"Great Architect watch over us bastard children of Adam. Help us keep this world safe from your siblings both living and dead. Help us so that this remains a realm of men and not a den of monsters."


End file.
